Pantheon  A Twilight Fan Fiction Novel: Book 3
by Chris Ryan Clark
Summary: Grant Willoughby's saga concludes in book 3 of the Allotrope series. Follow Grant and Coraline in a story that spans continents and decades, as they work to reconnect with each other and stop an ambitious plot that could change the course of history.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note:

_Several formatting features of this story, including handwriting fonts,_

_written-note insets and a dual-column chapter, can't be _

_displayed through the Fan Fiction site. In order to get the full effect_

_of these features (and read the book as it was meant to be read),_

_you should view or download the free .pdf version from my site:_

_sites-d.o.t.-google-d.o.t.-com/site/allotropebook/_

_Happy reading :-)_

PREFACE

Philippe grinned widely. "Now, that's more like it. For a moment there, I thought we were just going to talk." His men spread out in front of him, inching forward. There were nine in all – 4 of whom I recognized from our mission briefing – Felix, Elliot, Trent and Theodore. Behind the straight line of men, Philippe and Caius stood like Caesars watching an exhibition.

Hawkins and Emmett started calling out adversaries under their breath. Edward whispered something to Bella I didn't catch. I took Coraline's hand, and squeezed it tightly, while I scanned the minds of the nine for weaknesses. If Elliot was anywhere as strong as he was made out to be, we would need to reduce their numbers in a hurry.

"That Bella Cullen trick is a nice one," Philippe taunted, as the two groups hovered in an eerie standoff, like boxers waiting for the opening bell. "The thing is, though... it doesn't work if she's dead." The joking expression slid off his face like water, replaced by a stoic glare as he addressed his men.

"Kill her."

1. REPLY

My Dearest Coraline,

I cannot even begin to tell you how utterly thrilled I am to hear from you! There are so many things I want to say and ask ñ I donít even know where to begin.

How are you? Are you well? Safe? Are they treating you well in Volterra?

Sorry for all the questions, Iím just a little (no, a lot) excited.

Regarding my life here in Montana, itís going as well as I could ask for. Iím actually living here with my brother, Harvey, and his wife, Lucy. They are now vampires, which is a long story in itself. Iíll have to fill you in on it sometime. As youíre already aware, weíre living in Whitefish, trying to keep to a normal, civilian lifestyle, not unlike the one we used to share in Malmedy.

I must admit, I think of those days often. They were easily the happiest moments of my entire life. I would give anything to be able to go back there.

Regarding my safety, I can assure you that Iím safe and well. Hopefully, Wesley was able to explain to you what happened with the assassination attempt on me several years ago. Ever since we foiled that plan, I have been living free and clear. I can only assume that our cover story worked, and that the Volturi presumed me to be dead.

Speaking of Wesley, was he ever able to explain anything to you at all? I sent my forwarding address with him, in hopes that you would be able to contact me there, but obviously, you never got it. Please donít misunderstand ñ Iím happy you reached me here in Montana, Iím just concerned for Wesleyís well-being. Is he alright? What about Harriet? Are you still in contact with them? It would do my spirits well to hear that theyíre okay.

Oh, Coraline... I miss you so dearly. I think about you constantly. Constantly. Not a day goes by that I donít wish you could be here, or that I could come there. I know neither of those are in any way possible, but I wish it nonetheless. I am so truly, deeply sorry that it took so long to get in touch with you. Had I known you didnít have my contact information from Wesley, I would have tried another way to reach you.

Coraline, my feelings for you have not changed in the years weíve been apart. There is absolutely nothing that could ever change them. I am yours, now and forever, and I would be thrilled beyond belief to be able to write you on a regular basis

(if thatís something you would be interested in). Please feel free to write me any time. I can assure you, I will be checking my mailbox religiously awaiting your reply.

Yours in body, mind and soul,

-Grant

I could hardly contain my excitement as I folded the letter and went to place it in an envelope.

And, of course, we didn't have any envelopes in the house.

I was a quarter-mile toward the post office before I remembered that I was on foot, and humans aren't supposed to travel at sixty miles-per-hour. Normally, I would have been a little frustrated with myself for being so absent-minded, but there was no room in my emotional repository for frustration.

All I could feel was elation.

I reached the post office, tires squealing, at 6:26am, four minutes before the building was opened to the public. After a little frantic tapping on the window, someone let me in, and I went right to work. I neatly tucked my letter into a crisp new envelope, and had it addressed and stamped in under sixty seconds. The young woman at the postal service counter looked at me like I was a lunatic, and in her defense, I probably looked the part. She didn't understand, though. I had been sitting idly, doing nothing to get in touch with Coraline for three years.

I was done waiting.

I stayed to watch the mail truck drive away (yes, I know. Pathetic. The things we do in the name of love...), and headed back home, feeling higher than I had been in years. It was the beginning of a very good day.

Harvey and Lucy were at home when I arrived, and I couldn't wait to share my news with them. I saw Lucy first – she was seated at the kitchen table, reading a magazine when I burst onto the scene, radiating happiness.

"Lucy! The most splendid thing happened to me today!" I said jubilantly, as I leaned in through the open walkway to the kitchen.

"What?" She said, instantly excited.

"I received a letter. From Coraline."

"What? Seriously?"

I pulled out the hand-written note as proof.

"Seriously."

"That's... wonderful! I didn't even know you were going to Billings today."

"No, Lucy, not in Billings. It came here, to the house. Isn't that something? It caught me completely by surprise."

"Wow. What a wonderful surprise, huh? _So_... what did she say?"

"Well, for starters-"

"Did you just say you got the letter _here_?" Harvey interrupted, stepping into the room from the other entrance.

"Yes... it came here. Addressed to 'Grant Willoughby.'" I answered, a little disappointed by his lackluster response.

"And that didn't seem in the least bit suspicious to you?"

"No, not really. It was from Coraline – I recognize the handwriting."

"Are you _sure_?"

"Of course, I'm sure."

_At least, I _think _I am..._

"Grant, did it ever cross your mind that someone else might have sent that – someone who's trying to get to you?"

"No. Honestly, Harv... do you have to be such a kill-joy?"

"Listen to yourself, Grant. When am I ever a kill-joy? I'm just saying... if Coraline wanted to write to you, why wouldn't she write to the address in New Hampshire?"

"I don't know, Harvey – maybe she never got the directions. It doesn't really matter."

"Uh, yeah... it does."

"Well, maybe she'll tell me when she writes back."

"What do you mean... you didn't reply, did you?"

"Of course I did! Why wouldn't I?"

"For the love of God, Grant! Are you trying to get yourself killed? We're out here _hiding_. I thought you understood that better than anyone."

"I do, Harvey, I do. Sorry it bothers you, but you've got to trust me. I'm not going to put the family in danger."

"You already have."

"Harvey..."

He turned to leave, storming off as I called to him. I sighed. That was just Harvey. I'd' give him some time to cool down, and we'd talk it out.

Lucy shrugged her shoulders with a hesitant smile as we listened to Harvey's motorcycle engine roar to life and race down the driveway.

"Well... _I'm_ happy for you," she said sheepishly.

"Thanks. That... helps."

I shouldn't have been surprised at Harvey's reaction. After all, he had been strongly opposed to the idea of giving Coraline contact information to begin with. Normally, my brother was a pretty easy-going guy, but he did have the tendency to become intense at times, especially when it concerned the safety of those he loved. I could understand where he was coming from; if the tables were turned, and I felt Coraline's safety were put at risk, I would be concerned as well. I just wished he could give me the benefit of the doubt.

A passing argument with my brother wasn't enough to dampen my spirits, and my elation carried me all the way through the daylight hours and into my next work shift at the mortuary. Normally, I'm fairly far removed from anything resembling "cheerful" or "bubbly," so when I came to work with a bounce in my step, whistling the tune to _My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean_, my boss knew something was amiss – or, rather, quite right – with me.

Wally was a man of few words. Those he spoke, though, carried weight. At least, to me, they did. He eyed me with curiosity as I strolled into the preparation room, raising one eyebrow slightly as he continued working on the cadaver in front of him.

"Dear lord, Grant," he finally said, breaking the slightly awkward silence with his sharp Boston-American accent. "What in the blue blazes has gotten into you?"

"Ahh... just a bit of good news," I replied with a sigh.

"Really? And would this news have anything to do with a young lady?"

His assumption caught me by surprise._ Is it really that obvious?_ Wally had always been a little too perceptive for his own good – I often suspected he understood more about me than he should have.

"As a matter of fact... it does have something to do with a young lass," I answered, losing the battle with the relentless smile that broke out on my face. "How did you know?"

"Oh, when you know people like I do, it's not that hard to tell. So... spill the beans. You've worked for me for two and a half years, and you've never so much as mentioned a girl..."

I debated the risk of telling him the truth, and decided a little honesty wouldn't hurt. After all, who was he going to tell? Outside of the paper delivery boy, I was the only person he ever really talked to.

"There was a girl I knew back in Europe, during the war... she and I had... well, I suppose you could say we_ almost _had something special back then. I lost track of her years ago, didn't even know if she was still alive, and then yesterday, I received a letter from her, out of the blue. It's probably the best news I've received in quite some time."

"High school sweethearts, eh? Well, I'd say that_ is_ good news. Good for you, Grant. So, d'ya write her back?"

"Of course! I was waiting at the post office for it to open, so I could send a letter back."

"Hmph! Young love..." he chuckled, a twinkle lighting in his eye. "So, I take it you're pretty sweet on her..."

"Yes sir, very much so."

"Next thing I know, you're gonna be asking for more time off, so you can go see her, huh?"

"Oh, no... probably not. She's living in Italy now."

"_Oh_, I see. Well, that's a far stretch. I tried that once, ya know?"

"Tried what?"

"Courting a girl long-distance. It's not easy."

"No, certainly not. How did it work out for you?"

"Pretty well, I'd say. We were married for forty-two years."

"Oh, my... I never knew that. So, you and May..."

"Oh yeah, we were long-distance at first. Well, not actually _first_, but... ya know. I was twenty-five, living in Boston, selling shoes, when all of a sudden, outta nowhere – boom! This dame comes strolling down the street, walking her dog. Ugh! She was so beautiful, like an angel, straight off a stained glass window. She was seventeen at the time, came over to spend the summer with her aunt, who happened to be my next-door neighbor."

"Wow. What a coincidence."

"No, no... there are no coincidences when it comes to love," he continued, shaking his finger at me with smiling eyes. "We were meant to find each other. We spent every day together for six weeks before she had to go back home, and so, naturally, we started writing each other."

"How romantic. So, how long did that go on?"

"About three more weeks."

"Oh..."

"Aww, it was horrible. God-awful stuff. After the second letter, I just told her, 'sweetheart, this is ridiculous. Either we're getting married, or we're splitting up, 'cause I'm not cut out for this long-distance garbage.'"

"And... she married you?"

"Yeah. And here, I thought she was real bright." He chuckled again. It was nice to see him with some life in him.

"Did she move to Boston, then?"

"Well, no – why do you think I live in Montana?"

"Oh. You moved here for her?"

"Didn't have much of a choice in the matter. She was something of a homebody, and still young. Besides that, it was the only way her father would go along with it. So, I packed up everything I cared about in two suitcases, and got on the train headed west. Never looked back."

"That's amazing. So, you really didn't mind leaving the city for... this?"

"Are you kidding? I would have lived on the moon if I had to in order to be with her. Once I knew she was 'the one,' I just couldn't be away from her. That's how I am. Not saying you're wrong for doing your little 'pen-pal' routine – that's great. It just wasn't for me. I'm willing to bet, though... nah, I shouldn't say that."

"Say_ what?_ C'mon, now, you've gone and got my interest up. You'd be willing to bet _what_?"

He leaned in across the table, that glint still in his eyes.

"Give it a few weeks, a few months, whatever – you'll go to her. Or she'll come here. That is, if it's meant to be. But from the look of things, you're already hooked on this one, eh?"

"Yes, I... I suppose I am."

"Well, then, have fun. Don't take one single moment for granted."

"I won't."

"Good. Now, hurry up and help me with this embalming. I'm talking all our profits away."

I tried my best to concentrate on my work for the rest of the day, but it was hard thinking about anything but Coraline. I gave a large deal of consideration to what Wally had to say. A long-distance relationship would surely be a hardship, but at this point, I would endure just about anything in order to be in contact with Coraline again. I only hoped I would have the emotional stamina to stay disciplined. Unlike Wally, I couldn't just pack up my things and go to her. Not yet, at least.

The days went by more slowly than ever, as I waited for Coraline's reply. A small part of me actually began to fear that she had chosen not to respond after all, especially after a full month had passed with no word from her. Eventually, though, I received that letter I had been waiting for. Six weeks to the day after I had written her, I received her response in my mailbox, and once again, the giddy euphoria filled my heart as I opened it to read.

She wanted to continue writing.

Our long-distance relationship was officially underway.


	2. Chapter 2

2. IN TOUCH

- - - CORALINE GRAY - - -

Grant,

It is SO good to hear from you! I was hoping I had the address right (and that you'd feel safe enough to write back). Wow, there is so much to catch you up on. I only have a limited amount of time to write, but I'll try to hit the major points (and answer a few of those questions).

So, where do I start? I'm doing alright in

Volterra, as good as I could expect to be,

considering I'm a prisoner. I'm not sure how much Wesley told you about my situation here (funny -he's sort of an information bridge between us). If I start becoming redundant, you can just skip forward. Basically, Harriet and I almost got executed for being caught up with the Greek /Icelander fight. If Philippe hadn't talked us out of a corner, we'd probably both be dead.

The Volturi decided to declare Harriet "innocent' because of her abilities with the weather. Apparently, I wasn't talented enough to get a free pass. Instead, they spared my life and sentenced me to fifty years of 'involuntary service," which to date, has mostly been a sort of house-arrest. I am safe, though, and well taken-care-of. I live in the catacombs, and spend most of my time there, but recently, I've been granted a few hours at a time to go above ground. I never know when I'll get to go out next, it's all dependent on Demetri's schedule. That's why it took me so long to write back to you. Sorry! Unfortunately, I think it's going to be like that from now on when we write back and forth.

Okay, for your other questions...

Wesley and Harriet are fine. They're working for the Volturi, which, I admit, is pretty weird, but trust me, it's a good thing. I get to see them all the time, and they do a pretty good job at keeping me company. I still miss you, though. Talking with you was always so easy- a lot easier than writing secret letters back and forth across the ocean.

Speaking of company, I'm really glad to hear that your brother and sister-in-law are living with you. I was SO worried about you being lonely out there on your own all this time. It's reassuring to know you've got family. So, I must know- how did they become vampires? Did you change them yourself? I've never been brave enough to actually try a conversion myself. Not that I've ever had a reason to try it. You'll have to tell me the whole story sometime.

Oh, I almost forgot- so, about this 'forwarding address," it's not your fault, it's mine. Actually, it's not really my fault either. That note that you sent with Wesley got all messed up with water on the trip over here. He couldn't make all of it out, and I guess the portion we lost must have had your address on it.

I'm so sorry! I've been waiting here in Volterra, hoping you would try to contact me someday, and there you were the whole time, waiting for me to write you. What a sad mix-up! I can send all my future letters to that address, if that's what you'd prefer, just let me know.

Grant, I don't want you to worry about safety- I promise, I'm taking every precaution to make sure that I'm not putting you in danger by writing these letters. Believe me, I care more about your safety than just about anything else in this world.

I miss you.

I must have read your letter at least a dozen times before I sat down to write this. I imagine hearing your voice speaking the words, and it's almost like you're right here next to me. I wish you could be. I could really use your friendship again.

I know I haven't always treated you the best, and I know I've been a lousy friend sometimes, but I want to be better, to treat you like you deserve. Grant, you are such a gem, and I am so glad that I can still call you my friend. I want you to know how much that means to me. Seriously, thank you.

I'm running out of time, so I need to try and wrap this up, which is hard, because right now, I feel like I'm talking to you, even though you may not read this for another week or two. I have to stop now, though, or I won't be able to send this for another month.

Please, please write back as soon as you can. I want to hear more about everything- Harvey and Lucy's story, what your life is like in Whitefish, anything notable that's happened since Malmedy... pretty much anything about your life.

You're not the only one who'll be waiting religiously for a reply.

I miss you every day, Grant. Every day. Hopefully one day, we'll be able to see each other again. Until then, be safe, be happy, have as much fun as possible with Harvey and Lucy, and don't forget to write.

I really look forward to reading all about your life!

Your grateful friend,

-Coraline

I hesitated for a minute once I finished the letter – I wasn't quite ready to fold it up and send it away. As long as this letter was open and in the process of being written, it was like I had a channel open with him, almost like we were just talking to each other.

I wasn't ready for that feeling to be over yet.

I wished that I could package more than a few pages of scribbles. I wished I could mail him a smile, or a hug, or something more personal, but words were all I had to work with. Eventually, I gave in and folded the pages of the letter, and with a deep sigh, I placed it in a stamped envelope and took it to the mail drop-box.

By the time I had delivered Grant's letter, my time above ground was just about up, which of course, was really frustrating, but I couldn't be too upset – at least I had time out of the catacombs in the first place. That was a miracle in itself.

When Wesley and Zane came back to Volterra three years earlier, things began to change for me, mostly in a good way. For one thing, Harriet was around a little more often. The trips with Pearl and Donovan were still going on, but they became a little less frequent. After submitting a formal request to the big three, Wesley was permitted to go along with Harriet on all of her trips as additional "security," and to make a cover story easier (two couples traveling together).

After a few weeks with Wesley back in town, Harriet started to get back to her old self. She smiled more, laughed more... even got upset more. It was like the Harriet I used to know had been frozen in some kind or time capsule for three years, and when Wesley came back, she was unearthed again. I'm sure a large part of her change was a result of having her mate around again, but some part of me wandered if it also had to do with her time spent with Chelsea.

Chelsea's role in Volterra had never been clearly defined, and I often wondered (no, it was beyond 'wondering.' I was almost positive about it) if she had a hidden agenda. Being able to look back on things, it seemed like Harriet was always at her most bland personality state after spending time with Chelsea. Don't get me wrong – Chelsea was a nice girl, very likable – but I had a feeling she was using some sort of secret ability or something to keep Harriet's emotions under control. That would make sense, because her emotional state had a lot of ramifications attached to it.

Harriet developed her weather-influence exponentially since the time she came to Volterra. Most of the time, she could work whatever weather pattern she wanted. As long as there were any clouds in the sky to begin with, she could create enough shade to work under without fear. Eventually, she even became skilled enough to provide cover over small portions of a city, small enough that she and her posse could move around in shade while most of the rest of the area enjoyed sunshine. The only time things got tricky was if she was overly emotional. The weather seemed to be loosely tied to what sort of mood she was in. When she was radiantly happy, things would clear up overhead, and the sun would come out. If she was depressed, thick gray clouds swept in with heavy rain. If she was mad... well, you get the picture. She gained control of it over the years, but it was still a bit of a challenge for her at times.

Having Harriet around more often was a huge relief, because my only other friend in Volterra moved out of the picture. As soon as the whole Wesley/Zane thing happened, Edgar was transferred off of the border guard, supposedly to some far-off security detail. Of course, the skeptic in me suspected otherwise. Anyone who spent a good amount of time underground would have noticed that we talked every time he came in to receive his new assignment, and with the controversy surrounding me after my escape attempt, it would have been easy for him to get wrapped up in it. Philippe probably didn't trust him anymore, and a reassignment was probably some sort of punishment. I just hoped it was actually a reassignment and not a cover-up for an execution, or something horrible like that. The Volturi (and Philippe, for that matter) were not known for their mercy.

One other benefit from the shake-up in Volterra was having Philippe around a lot less often. After destroying the "fugitive" like he was asked, Philippe got that promotion he was after. He tried to cover up what the job was really about, but I figured out enough to know that it had to do with "talent development." Ever since the Volturi had executed Eliza Thornbloom (which, sadly, was my fault), they had been looking for a decent replacement for her. Apparently, they had tried three different people at the job in eight years before deciding to use a different approach. They created a new position, rolling talent-development in with a couple of other official duties that I wasn't privy to, and gave the position to Philippe.

The nice thing about Philippe's overactive ego was that it was so consumed with this new prestigious assignment that he mostly forgot about me. He moved the main development center from Vermont to a remote place in the Austrian Alps, and started pulling people from other departments to work there with him. For a while, there was talk that he might ask for Harriet's transfer, but I think he clashed with Wesley too much for that to ever work. Instead, he had Pearl and Donovan transferred there, while Harriet, Wesley and I stayed in Volterra. Philippe still came over to visit every six or eight weeks, and he still had the same intentions for our relationship, but it was different. I could tell I was a side-project now. What mattered most to him was achieving success with his new position; wooing me took a back seat.

The downside to having Philippe further removed from the political scene in Volterra was that I lost most of my special favors from the council. Philippe had always been the one to ask for things on my behalf, from better accommodations downstairs to special assignments that gave me the opportunity to go above ground. Since he was the only one with power who ever cared about me, I became invisible when he left.

Insignificant.

Forgotten.

Normally, being ignored by the Volturi would have been a good thing, but after two and a half years of being 'nobody,' I was becoming desperately bored with my life. The only official duty I had was delivering the mail, which doesn't exactly fill someone's life with meaning and purpose. It was all I had, though, so I did the best job with it that I could.

Every weekday, I would screen the mail for the Volturi and deliver the important messages. They got a huge pile of correspondence every day, most of which was "inconsequential" in their eyes. Gradually, my job evolved to the point where it was my responsibility to weed out the trivial matters and only deliver the messages worth spending the time to read.

I made my delivery most afternoons, dropping off the letters without so much as a word spoken. As usual, the only one who ever even noticed me at all was Marcus. Gradually, he did more than just 'notice' me – he began watching me. I couldn't quite tell why, or what he was looking for, and even though I knew it wasn't a dangerous, suspicion-based watching, it still made me a little uncomfortable. I was starting to go crazy wondering what he was looking for, when he finally spoke up one day.

It was a rare occasion to see one of the Volturi without the others. They were like a three-headed being, reading each-others thoughts (well, just Aro did that), finishing each other's sentences. One Monday afternoon, though, I came to the room to find Marcus there all by himself. I never knew why. I would have asked, but we got onto a totally different subject that day, one that was a lot more important to me.

I dropped off the letters like I normally do, and was about to leave, when he spoke to me.

"Say, Coraline... do you have a moment to stay? I have a question for you."

I was terrified for a split-second, unsure of his intentions. After all, I had a lot of dangerous secrets. I saw his motivation, though, and it was benign, so I turned around and walked over to him.

"Sure. What can I help you with?"

"Actually, I was wondering what _I_ can help_ you_ with. I see you come in here every day, and you always look so somber and downtrodden. I know you are here against your will, that your heart longs to be free of this place, but I see something else in you. Heartache. You grieve as if you've been separated from your lover. Is this the case?"

Wow. _Was it really that obvious?_ He was more insightful than I'd given him credit for. I was heartbroken. Ever since Wesley had returned with his story about Grant, I had been waiting – waiting for Grant to write, to call... to come. Waiting for anything. I always told myself it was stupid to hold out hope – after all, I wasn't a 'hopeful' person to begin with. I knew that Volterra was the most dangerous place in the world for Grant, and that if he had any sense in him at all, he would stay far away from here. There was always a little corner of my heart that hoped I was wrong, though, and that was the corner that hurt the most.

When he got back from breaking the news to Harriet that he was alive, Wesley brought me a few of my personal belongings that he had recovered from the wreckage of our old house in Belgium. He was able to salvage almost all of my Beethoven piano sonata, a few of my favorite books (many of which were first editions), my father's violin... and the music box Grant had given me for our first Christmas. I kept the box hidden most of the time, only pulling it out in moments of extreme weakness. I loved seeing it, it just made me miss Grant too much.

I had kept an assortment of meaningful things in there while we lived in Belgium. Besides the photographs from our shopping trip in Vienna, I had a few dried flower petals from one of the wildflower bouquets he picked for me, the necklace I wore to his brother's wedding and the bow-tie that he wore to it. I occasionally pulled the contents of my box out to look at them, especially his bow-tie. After a fire and several years of being buried underground, it still smelled faintly like him, which was a simultaneously beautiful and heart-wrenching thing. I missed him desperately, so much so that it was apparently obvious to the casual observer.

I thought carefully about my answer to Marcus's question – as far as he knew, Grant was dead years ago. But then, as far as he knew, I didn't even know Grant at all. It seemed like a safe enough path to go down, and I really needed an outlet to talk to, so I decided to tell him the truth.

Sort-of.

"Actually... you're right. My heart's not here at all. It's with a man that I fell in love with years ago. I haven't seen him since I've been here, and... well, I guess that's why I'm always so dejected."

"I suspected as much. I'm sorry about that, dear. It is an unfortunate consequence of your sentence here. Is it not possible for him to come and visit you? My brothers and I would not be opposed to it..."

"I would love it if he could come, but I have no idea where he is, or how to get in touch with him. He probably thinks I'm dead."

"Oh, my, that is quite unfortunate. Was he your mate?"

"I don't know... I don't suppose anything was ever officially decided, but..."

"But your heart and his have become intertwined. I can sense it even now. I can sympathize with your feelings. I certainly know what it is to feel separation from your true love. Perhaps I can assist you in reconnecting with him – if that's what you wish..."

"Help me? How?"

"Let me call Demetri over and have him look for your lover. Perhaps he can find him, and the two of you can get in touch once again."

I fought back a sudden surge of panic at the mention of Demetri's name. The whole time Grant was officially on the run from the Volturi, he was the one who scared me the most. There was no way I was ever letting him look for Grant. And then a wonderful idea struck me.

He didn't have to be looking for 'Grant.'

Demetri was pulled off the case long before Philippe and Theodore tracked Grant down. He had no way of knowing who Grant was, and since everyone believed him to be dead, no one would even suspect that Grant and 'the fugitive' were actually the same person. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to find Grant, and at least find out for sure whether he cared about getting in touch with me or not. I couldn't just pass it up.

"You would really do all that for me? Call Demetri?"

"Certainly. He is in town today - I can call him over right away. If your friend is still out there, we will find him. And, what did you say his name was?"

"Will. His name is Will."

"Alright. We'll find him for you."

I hurried back down to my room while Marcus called for Demetri. As good as he was at finding people, Demetri couldn't just pull a location out of thin air (at least, not for someone he'd never met). He was going to need a head start, and I had just the thing to help. I dug into the bottom of my closet, pushing my superfluous collection of shoes out of the way, and uncovered the hole I had carved into the back wall. Inside was my little music box – the only physical thing I had that connected me to Grant.

I paused for a moment, thinking things through one last time. Part of me wondered if I was thinking about Grant at all in the equation, or whether this was just for my own benefit. It was certainly risky – for both of us. In the end, though, I decided the risk was outweighed by the potential reward. I had been dying to talk to Grant for almost six years – I had to at least try and make this work. I reached into the box, gently pulling out the bow-tie, and headed back upstairs.

I got back up to Marcus before Demetri arrived, which was a little awkward. There really wasn't a lot to say, so we waited, mostly in silence, until Demetri showed up.

"Hello, Coraline," He said as he entered the room, speaking to me for the first time in years. "Marcus tells me you need to find someone."

"Yes... um... his name is Will Grant. He's an old friend of mine, and..."

"And we need to know whether he is living, and what his whereabouts might be if he is," Marcus finished.

"Will Grant... can't say that rings a bell for me," Demetri said with a genuine frown. I could tell he was a little busy, but was still willing to help. "Do you have anything to help me narrow down the field a bit?"

"I have a bow-tie..." I answered meekly.

"... a bow-tie?"

"It smells like him. I thought maybe it would help..."

I handed over the little silk tie and he inspected it thoroughly before sniffing it.

"Let me see what I can do," He replied, speaking with some uncertainty to keep from getting my hopes up.

He closed his eyes for a moment, deep in concentration, and eventually spoke.

"Good news – I found him. He's in North America. I could pinpoint it further with the help of a map. I've got one in my office – you can accompany me back there if you wish..."

"Sure," I said, bursting with excitement.

I thanked Marcus profusely, and Demetri and I went back to his office, which was a few stories down from Marcus' chamber. Much to my surprise, he actually talked to me on the way.

"So, Coraline... are you and Philippe still... uh, on good terms?"

I was afraid at first that he was trying to make some kind of play on me, but that wasn't the reason for his question. He had something to say, but didn't want to offend me.

"Well, I mean, we're still on talking terms... but it's not like we're close. Why?"

"I was just going to say that I'm sorry I've been so, um... distant since you've been here. Everyone tells me you're a nice enough person to spend time with, I just really can't stand Philippe."

"Oh. Well, you wouldn't be the first one to say that."

"No, I suppose I wouldn't... I know he's something of a friend of yours, but he's just one of those people that grates against me the wrong way. Especially with all that rubbish about finding the fugitive. I've worked with a number of people though the years, and never had anyone been so demanding and self-admiring as Philippe. I didn't want to be anywhere near him, for fear that I would do something to him I might regret."

"I understand how you feel. He's a hard guy to get along with."

"So, then, how do you do it? If you don't mind my asking..."

"Well, it was either talk to him or try to hold a conversation with Yuri."

"Oh, I see. Well, seeing as how he doesn't really speak English, that didn't leave you with much of a choice. So, you must be quite lonely here, now that Philippe is in Austria."

"Not too much. I have my sister, Harriet. And Wesley. They help me not to go too stir-crazy."

"Well, I know I keep a pretty busy schedule, but if you ever need company, you're welcome to give me a call. I don't exactly have a long list of friends, either."

"Wow. Thanks, Demetri. I may do that."

"Good. Now, let's find this friend of yours," he said as we stepped into his 'office,' which made my bedroom look like a cheap motel.

Demetri pulled out a collection of maps of the United States, zeroing in on Montana, before he finally got an exact location.

"He's right here," Demetri said, pointing to a small town in the middle of nowhere. "It's a town called 'Whitefish.'"

He scribbled down a partial address on a piece of paper and handed it to me

"If he's in a building, it must be newer than my map. This is the closest address I can come up with. It's not a business area, so it's most likely a new house. I'm not sure if he's staying there, or if he's just passing through, but he's been at the same location for the past thirty minutes. If you hurry, you just might catch him."

_Uh, yeah. Not likely._

"Thank you, Demetri. I owe you one."

"Why don't you sucker-punch Philippe the next time you see him, and we'll call it even," he said with a wink. He was exaggerating, but secretly, he'd like it if pain came to Philippe. I knew how he felt. I think I would have liked that at times.

Once I had my address in hand, I went right back to my room and wrote a letter to Grant. It was so exciting – thinking about the very real possibility that he would be able to read it (and the slightly less certain possibility that he might write back). I had everything I needed to get back in touch – the only thing left standing in my way was getting to a mailbox. I tried to find a way to get a letter in the outgoing mail from Volterra, but it was handled separately, and in the end, I didn't want to risk having it screened before it left the premises, which was highly likely to happen. I was stumped for about three weeks before I caught another break.

The Volturi called me up to their chamber one day to tell me that they had noticed my dedication to my work and my 'generally agreeable' behavior, and as a result, they were going to give me one day to go above ground and have a little 'free time.' I caught Marcus wink slightly as Aro delivered the news – he had convinced the other two to let me go. At long last, I was going to get back in touch with Grant.

I only got four hours of time away from Volterra – from midnight to 4:00am – so I would have to make the time count. Demetri would be monitoring my location the whole time, so I couldn't go too far, but at the same time, I didn't want to send the letter out from Volterra, in case Grant decided to write back and it somehow got screened by the Volturi. I wasn't really sure where to go, so after checking in with Demetri (and letting him know I would be roaming a little ways), I started heading to Rome.

I had planned on sending the letter from Rome, but I drastically underestimated how long it would take me to get there. By the time I was an hour and a half out, I was nowhere near the capital city, so I settled for a little town called Allerona. It was sort-of in the middle of nowhere, but it did have a postal drop-box. It also had a variety of houses that had been damaged in the war, several of which were still uninhabited. I decided to go out on a limb, and use one of them as a return address for Grant to mail a response to, at least, until I could set up a post office box somewhere. I dropped my letter off, and raced back to Volterra, barely making it back before my curfew. At long last, I had the chance to contact Grant.

Now it was back to waiting.

Since I behaved myself well enough on the first go around, the Volturi told me they'd let me out again when it was convenient for Demetri. It was a little nerve-wrecking, not knowing when I'd get to check for Grant's reply, but what else could I do? I waited every day for permission to go, growing more impatient and excited with each one. By the time I was allowed to leave again, I was about to explode with anticipation. I couldn't get to that old broken-down mailbox fast enough.

There was another moment of hesitation as I placed my hand on the lid to the mailbox. _Don't get your hopes up, Coraline_, I told myself, trying to keep myself from being hurt if the box was empty. After all, there could be a lot of reasons why I shouldn't expect to have anything there. Unfortunately, love isn't a very logical thing, and as much as I tried not to be, I was insanely hopeful as I opened the little metal hatch and reached my hand inside the box.

I guess being hopeful was alright this time.

A surge of happiness went through me like a bolt of lightning as my hand grasped a paper envelope and pulled it out. It was a letter from Grant.

I tore through the envelope like an eager child on Christmas morning, and read his response as quickly as my eyes would move. He missed me, too! And he was doing alright in Montana. I read it over and over, and then I remembered – I only had so much time here, and I definitely wanted to write back.

I wrote as long a response as I had time for, and dropped it off before returning home. It was over an hour's journey back to Volterra, and most of the way, I was going over what I had written – and kicking myself.

_"Friend," Coraline? Really? "I'm so glad that I can still call you my _friend_?" Why didn't you just come out and say it – you're in love with him, the least you could do is tell him! Ugh! Stupid girl! Seriously, what do you have to lose?_

I griped at myself all the way back to my room, but ultimately, I was determined to stand by my decision. I did love Grant, but telling him that at this point wasn't going to do either one of us any good. We already wanted to be with each other more than anything in the world, and we were (probably) both on the verge of doing very stupid things in order to make that happen. Using the word wasn't going to make that dynamic any easier. And besides that, if I was going to tell him something that important, I would do it in person. Those were the reasons I used to justify my "friend" heavy letter. They weren't the whole truth, but they made me feel better.

Once I was back in Volterra, I started the waiting game again, and began to fall into a pattern, living from trip to trip, with my entire life revolving around that old rusty mailbox. It was a lot like living underwater – staying in the dark, cold depths at lengths, and only getting to come up for air every now and then. It was good, though. Writing back and forth with Grant was enough to fill my life with all the happiness I could ask for. I just had to make it through the boredom one day, or week, or _month _at a time, and I could have my reward – a few minutes of pure emotional sunshine every time I opened that mailbox.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note:

_Chapter 3, _Correspondence_, has been condensed to help the flow_

_of the story. The entire collection of letters between Grant and _

_Coraline can be found in _appendix 1_ at the end of the story._

3. CORRESPONDENCE

Sep. 25, 1951

My Dearest Coraline,

I feel as if Iím living in a dream, writing you like this. I keep feeling like Iíll wake up and realize itís all a fantasy. Is it really possible that this is happening? Well, I suppose I should at least continue as if it were.

Iím so very sorry that youíve been imprisoned in Volterra. It is a terrible injustice ñ having such a genuinely good person locked away like a common criminal. I can assure you that whatever respect I might have held the Volturi in has been thoroughly crushed.

You deserve much better.

In a similar vein, I got the impression from your last letter that you were treated as something of a second-rate talent (at least, in comparison to Harriet), and I just wanted to reassure you ñ you are among the most brilliant, creative, talent-rich people I have ever known. I donít know what sort of blinders these Italian aristocrats are

wearing, but they have dramatically underestimated you. You are resplendent in every way. Please, never allow yourself for one second to feel inadequate or irrelevant.

I, too, share your surprise that Harriet and Wesley would knowingly choose to work for the Volturi, especially considering the offensive way in which theyíve dealt with you, but I trust your judgment, and if you say itís a good thing, then I will try to think of it that way. I wonder, though, how long an arrangement like theirs will last. I know Wesley well enough to know that heís not the type to stay in any one place for a long time. I hope, though, for your sake, that he does decide to stay close by you. I cannot imagine the depths of loneliness you must fear if they were to leave. The mere thought of it breaks my heart. I have known deep loneliness, and at times, it seems worse than death. I would never wish it on my worst enemy, much less my best friend.

Alright, I suppose I should stop my rambling and get to some of your questions. I want to tell you about Harvey and Lucy, but in order to understand that story, you need to know a few things about my life after Malmedy. As soon as I left Belgium, I went to Havana, Cuba, where I was taken in and hidden by some old friends of Wesleyís. In time, I learned that they were actually a coven of assassins, and through a gradual process of discovery on both ends, I came to be a part of their business. I must tell you, Coraline, I am very much ashamed of my decision to join them. Looking back on it now, I can see that it was an immoral and irresponsible thing to do, and I hope that the fact that I willingly chose that lifestyle for a time will not permanently tarnish your view of me. I am a better man than that ñ killing people I donít even know for money ñ I hope you know that. I have since renounced the business and everything they stand for, and while I have retained a friendly relationship with the other vampires in the coven, I have no desire to spend any more time under their influence.

I said all that to explain why I was able to save my brotherís life. In November of 1947, I intercepted a termination request to kill Harvey and, if necessary, Lucy as well. Needless to say, I was shaken to my very core. I hurried to England, and with the help of one of my very dear friends from Havana, I was able to get to Harvey and Lucy before the assassins did. Unfortunately, in the process of escaping the country, Harvey was shot twice in the chest, which nearly killed him on impact. Changing him was the only way to save his life, so I did what I had to do. So, yes, I bit him myself. It was, without a doubt, one of the scariest moments of my life. I honestly didnít know if I would be able to stop without killing him, but I did (with a little help from my friend). Once we got Harvey and Lucy back to Havana, it was obvious that we were going to have to change Lucy as well. She may not be comfortable with my sharing of the entire story of her conversion, but suffice it to say that I changed her as well.

Much to my surprise and delight, they have taken to the vampire nature quite nicely, as evidenced by the fact that weíve been able to live in the same town for nearing three years now. I have taught them from the beginning to take blood from the deceased, and all in all, they have done a marvelous job at sticking to it. I am so glad to know that they will go through this life carrying far fewer lives on their conscience than you or I do.

Speaking of living in the same town, you had asked about my life here in Whitefish. After leaving Havana, my family and I decided to try and settle down in northwestern Montana, mostly because of its remote nature and the regional weather. It is cloudy here most days, which obviously suits our unique needs well.

Harvey and Lucy are terribly bored here, and as a result, they travel frequently ñ most often to Seattle or Portland, though they have also visited Vancouver from time to time. I suspect that we may need to try living in a larger city the next time we move. As for me, I have taken an apprenticeship with an undertaker in town by the name of Wally Monteverde. Heís such an authentically nice old man ñ I wish you could meet him. Heís now seventy-seven years old, and he has no other family around, so, Iíve become something of a long-lost son to him. He allows me to work with him in his business, and heís taught me how to do everything related to the occupation. This has been quite beneficial to me, as I now have three vampires to sustain on a diet of cold blood. Working with Wally has been the perfect source for that, as well as giving me something to do with my time.

Speaking of ëtime,í what do you do with yours? It sounded from your letter as if you didnít have much to do. That is just another testament to how ignorant and wasteful the Volturi are ñ you would be a tremendously valuable asset to any organization lucky enough to have you around. If they canít see that, then they are truly fools.

You asked me where I would prefer you send your letters, and I think, at least for the time being, that I would prefer you begin sending them to my forwarding address. If it were solely up to me, I would rather the letters come directly to my house, as I would most likely be able to retrieve them sooner. However, anything coming directly here from Italy makes Harvey quite uncomfortable, to the point where it has become a source of conflict between us. It would be much more peaceful in my home if you could send the letters to the address Iíve listed on the return address portion of the envelope Iím sending you. Iíve arranged for all such letters to be forwarded from Billings directly to my house, so I can still enjoy checking my own mailbox for them, just as before. I would ask you not to fault Harvey for his precautionary nature. It is not you he is opposed to, heís just very protective of those he loves, namely myself and Lucy, and he doesnít know you the way I do. Heís only looking out for me, like any good brother would do. I am certain that once he has a chance to spend time with you, he will be as confident in your trustworthiness as I am.

Please, donít feel any pressure from me to hurry with your response to this letter. While I would love to hear back from you soon, I completely understand the difficult situation youíre in, and I want you to feel comfortable enough to reply at your convenience. Iím just happy that youíre able to reply at all.

I think of you every day, and miss you dearly. The day I see you again will be the most magical happening the world has ever seen. I cannot wait for that day to come.

Missing you tremendously,

-Grant

January 3, 1952

Grant,

Good idea, adding the date to the messages. That way, we can see just how long it's taking for them to get back and forth. Of course, it is a little depressing when I think about how long it's been since your letter came here in the mail, but, oh well. At least we get to write at all.

Not to dive into serious stuff so early, but I wanted to thank you for your encouraging words about my talents. I do honestly feel like a second-rate vampire sometimes, but just knowing that you believe in me helps a lot. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. You are just the absolute best friend a girl could ask for.

Now, in return, I'm going to get onto you for the way you talked about yourself joining the assassin coven.

Grant, seriously... you're probably the most noble, good, high-character vampire in existence in the entire world. So you made a bad decision. Who cares? You realized it was 'wrong,' and you stopped. I don't think any less of you at all. In fact, I really wish I could stick to my morals as well as you stick to yours. Living in Volterra has been bad for that sort of thing. I've never been anywhere where humans are thought less of than they are here. Part of my room and board here in the catacombs is the allowance to feed off of the tourists who are brought in here every week. They don't allow anyone to hunt in or near the city, so they have a small team of vampires who bring in people from all over the place to feed everyone who works underground.

Grant, it's been so horrible. I tried just getting my fill from whatever's left over after the live ones are killed, but there's just not enough there to live on.

Please don't hate me, okay? I don't have a choice. I have to eat sometime. I promise, though, as soon as I have the chance, I'm going to try and find other ways to feed.

Alright, enough talking about that. I think what you did for your brother and his wife was very brave. Like I said before, I don't think I would ever be able to actually stop in time to keep from killing someone. You can just add that to the list of things I admire about you.

You asked what I do in my spare time, and honestly... it's not much. I'm in charge of screening and delivering the incoming mail to the Volturi, and besides that, I don't really get to do anything of meaning. I've read so many books- it's a little ridiculous. Wesley brought my violin back from the house (yeah, I can't believe it wasn't burned up, or anything, but what can I say- miracles do happen). I've started playing it a lot over the last few months, and it just reminds me how much I love music. You remember that time when Harriet bought me that Haydn Concerto and asked me to sight-read it for the three of you? You know how I totally drug my feet, 'cause I wasn't good enough to play it right? Well, I can play it perfectly now. In fact, I'll bet I could sight-read it perfectly, if I had the chance. I wish you could listen. If only I could just package that into one of these paper envelopes. I wish I could give you something more than just words. You have been so amazingly encouraging and life-saving for me. I hope you understand how much I treasure our conversations. Ugh! And again, I'm out of time. Please write back. Tell me about anything- I want to know it all.

I miss you so much. Hope you're doing great!

Your encouraged friend,

-Coraline

I couldn't stop smiling for hours, walking around town like a loon in my love-drunk stupor. Normally, I was the most image-conscious one in the family – at least, when it came to the humans in Whitefish. On the days like this, though, I didn't really care if people thought me odd. There was a letter in my mailbox. Nothing could possibly be wrong with the world.

I had never fancied myself to be the pen-pal type. In all the time I spent as a human away from my family, I may have written them a dozen times or so. This was different, though. Writing Coraline was my new favorite pastime, as my brother and sister-in-law could attest to.

After our initial exchange, Coraline and I wrote each other regularly for a year and a half. Well, as regularly as she was able to write. Coraline's prison sentence was still kept in the strictest of fashion – she had to wait for weeks at a time, just to go out for an hour or two. Consequently, it wasn't uncommon for an exchange of letters between us to take up to 2 months. Not exactly the ideal scenario for pen-pals. I was patient, though. She was the one who had all the hardships to bear.

Coraline made great progress in the area of blood harvesting while we lived in Belgium, and though she was never as ardent a supporter of cold blood as I was, I had hoped that she would grow into the practice in my absence. Unfortunately, her terms of imprisonment made feeding from the dead virtually impossible. She wrote me apologetically, lamenting the circumstances that drove her to killing for sustenance, and it broke my heart. As if keeping her locked up like a common criminal were not bad enough, those self-righteous Italian aristocrats were wounding my dear one's conscience on a regular basis. I came quite close to marching right over there and speaking my mind, but logic always won out in the end. The only thing going to Volterra would do is end my life prematurely, and I couldn't do that to my family.

Over the first half of the 1950's, Harvey, Lucy and I gradually adjusted to small-town life in America, and though the pace was slower than we preferred, we each found ways to pass the time. Harvey filled a portion of his spare time racing cars on back country roads for small wagers. He had a reputation for being absolutely fearless, and only lost races when he totaled his car. On the opposite end of the spectrum, Lucy became involved in a local church congregation. She went to weekend services, attended pot-luck dinners, and even taught a class for children on Sundays. Harvey and I left the church-going to her. We had better things to do with our Sundays. Namely, football.

Harvey introduced me to American football one September afternoon, and I was instantly hooked. It was, in my estimation, the perfect balance of strategy and athleticism, a game for mind and body. And, of course, it was popular in the United States, which made adopting it as my new favorite sport a little easier. Harvey and I watched the games religiously every fall from the comfort of our living room, thanks to my unique influence on our electronic devices. I would have loved to have attended more games in person, but it was hard for me to get away from town – I was far too busy with the mortuary.

Over the course of several years, Wally came to trust me more and more with the day to day operation of his business, and as his health gradually declined, my share of the work grew to encompass nearly every aspect of the profession. I learned everything there was to know about handling bodies and following procedural guidelines, and developed my own craft on the side. With a little experimentation, I created a system of blood extraction and storage, which allowed for a much cleaner, more civilized method of drinking blood. I could drain the fluid from the freshest of sources, bottle and refrigerate it, and smuggle it home to my family, all without raising Wally's suspicions in the slightest.

Wally was a good man – hard-working, dependable, far from judgmental. He and I became close friends in an odd sort of way, which is why it was quite difficult for me when he died of congestive heart failure in 1955. In a small way, it was almost like losing my own father again. He was estranged from his own son, and treated Harvey, Lucy and me like family. This was evidenced in the most concrete way by the fact that – unbeknown to me – he named me in his will as the primary recipient of all his possessions, including his business. I became an unwilling owner of my very own undertaking service that year, which provided a good diversion for me, since the correspondence with Coraline was somewhat nonexistent at the time.

My correspondence with Coraline flowed back and forth with minimal interference from 1951 to the fall of 1953. Everything changed that November, though, when a violent uprising broke out in India. A rebel group banded together and attempted to overthrow the government in Volterra, lashing out through a series of terrorist attacks. All the Volturi Guard members were called to active duty, including Demetri, who was Coraline's doorway to the outside world. The battle to quell the uprising turned out to be a much lengthier ordeal than anyone initially realized, and as a result, I didn't hear from Coraline for nearly 3 years.

Needless to say, it was depressing.

If Harvey and Lucy hadn't been around, I truly don't know how I would have coped through those years, but they carried me through somehow, patient enough to put up with my undying hope that someday, Coraline would write again. Even by the end of the third year, I still checked my mailbox periodically – out of duty, if not out of hope. If and when she was able to write me again, I wanted to know right away.

So I waited. And I checked.

And It's a good thing I did, because on one of those faithful days checking the mailbox, I came back through town smiling like a loon again.

September 14, 1956

Grant,

Hi! Wow, I really can't believe I'm actually writing this! It has been SO LONG since I've written you. Sorry, it was totally out of my hands. I honestly have not been above ground at all for the last... well, almost 3 years now. Unbelievable!

First, let me say that I'm so sorry to keep you hanging like that. It's been killing me, not being able to communicate with you, but, like I said, I haven't had the chance at all. As you may have guessed, the problem in India escalated into a full-blown war, and it was an ugly one, at that. There were three different covens there that were planning some sort of coup, so the Volturi decided it wasn't enough to just bring things under control- they went for total extermination. It was a long, hard process. We actually had a real scare about nine months into the war- a couple of them made it past the perimeter guard, all the way to the catacomb entrance. Needless to say, after that, everything underground was totally shut off. Harriet and I were both in there with no chance of leaving until the Volturi could be sure it was "safe." Basically, it was a big mess, but it's over now. They hunted down every last vampire in the whole area and killed them all.

Okay, so I have to tell you- the best part about the war being over is that I've been promoted. Well, sort-of. Philippe had to put a stop on most of his recruiting (for talent development) while the fighting was going on, so there's a huge back-log of people to check up on. Donovan, the guy that went along with Harriet and the others on their trips, was killed in India, and her mate, Pearl, has gone totally AWOL. It could be a while before she's got it together enough to get back to work evaluating people for Philippe, so in the mean time... apparently I'm the best replacement they've got.

I'm going to start going on trips with Harriet and Wesley (and a few other people, most of the time), meeting potential humans (and vampires) to try and screen them for potential.

Isn't that great? I have a job! I get to go places!

FINALLY!

Obviously, I'm a little excited about things here, but I want to know more about what's going on with you. First of all, I'm really sad to hear about Wally. I know he meant a lot to you, and I know it must have been really hard watching him die like that. You never wrote anything else after that, though. Are you still in Whitefish? Did you have to find another way to harvest blood? Do you still like watching football? I need to know these things.

Oh, Grant, I've missed talking to you so much. We can absolutely, positively NEVER go this long without writing again.

Okay, so, there's one other thing that I want to ask you, but I'm a little nervous about it. It's just an idea, and if you think it's stupid, or dangerous, or anything like that, I totally understand. I don't want you to feel like you have to go along with it, but...

I'm going to be in New York for a couple days in October, and...

I was wondering if you wanted to meet me there. It'll just be me, Harriet, and Wesley there. We're meeting a couple people over the weekend, and then we'll be traveling back to Volterra to give a report. It would be totally safe, as far as I can tell, but I understand if it sounds too risky to you. I don't want you to be in any danger at all. At the same time, though, it would be so nice to see you again. I would totally love to have more time to really catch up. I'm not sure if I'll have time to check my mail again before I fly to New York, so just in case I don't, and you decide you want to meet up with me, I'll be staying at the Waldorf-Astoria hotel in Manhattan from Friday, October 5th through Sunday, October 7th. Again, if you don't- or can't- come, that's okay.

I would really love to see you, though.

I miss you, Grant. Write back soon, okay?

-Coraline


	4. Chapter 4

4. A WEEKEND IN NEW YORK

"New York? Why do you need to go there?"

I debated for a moment whether to tell my brother the truth, or whether it would be easier to make up a story on the spot. I knew he wouldn't be too keen on the idea of me traveling across the country to see Coraline, but given the fact that I burst into the living room as if the house was on fire to tell him I was leaving town, I didn't have a slew of other plausible explanations up my sleeve.

"Coraline is going to be there next week. I'm going there to spend the weekend with her."

I watched as Harvey and Lucy's faces swept in different directions like an unbalanced scale. Hers went from neutral to surprise and giddy excitement. His sunk to slightly angered cynicism.

_Well, at least one of them is happy for me._

"You can't be serious..." Harvey said, his eyebrows lowering a little further.

"I am serious. Harvey, I've been waiting to see her for _nine years._ There's no way I'm passing this up."

"Why would she be in New York? And how do you know when she'll be there?"

"I read it in a letter. She's finally able to write again."

Harvey had reluctantly accepted that the letters I had been receiving during our time in Whitefish were legitimately from Coraline, though he still wasn't fond of the idea of writing back and forth. His expression lightened ever so slightly.

"Well... are you sure it's safe? You sure it's not a trap?"

"Seriously, Harvey!" Lucy interjected, adopting a scolding tone. "Will you ease up a bit? This is exciting news – you know how much this means to Grant. Can't you be happy for him?"

"What is there to be happy about? My brother's getting yanked around like a dog on a chain, by some girl who's working for the Volturi. You want me to be _happy_ about that?"

"You should at least be supportive, then," she answered, turning her attention to me. "We'll take care of everything here until you get back. Don't worry about a thing. You go and have fun."

"Thanks, Luce. I'll be about two weeks. You sure you don't mind watching things for that long?"

"It's no problem at all. _Right_, Harvey?" She turned to him, eyes narrowed and mildly threatening.

"Go ahead. It's your funeral," he replied apathetically.

"Great. Alright, well, I'm leaving right away," I said, ignoring Harvey's remarks altogether. "I'll bring back a souvenir or something."

"That soon?" Lucy asked.

"That soon. I'd like to get there before she does so I can get acclimated to the layout of the town."

"Okay, that'll be fine," she replied warmly. "Have a good time."

I took about an hour to pack my things, and I was on the road, heading east once more for a road trip. There was a part of me that held onto a bit of concern over the operation of the business in my absence – it wasn't that Harvey and Lucy were incompetent, it was just Harvey's opposition to the idea that gave me hesitation. I didn't want Lucy to end up taking care of things all on her own.

Now that we had full control of the undertaking business, my family and I had all the blood we could want, and no one to hide our business practices from. The business wasn't especially lucrative, but I had more than enough income from stock market investments to cover it. It didn't need to make a profit in my absence, it just needed to remain viable until I returned. I knew Harvey and Lucy were capable of at least that much.

The trip to New York took me two days, which would have seemed like an eternity, had it not been for my vehicle. One of the benefits of being a substantial shareholder in the General Motors Company was the preferential treatment I could command when it came time to purchase a new automobile. Officially, the 1957 model Corvette was not available to the general public until mid-April 1957. _Un_officially, my one-of-a-kind concept was more car than the general public would ever see. It was a beauty – cherry red with white side paneling and white-walled tires. Red and white dual-toned leather interior. Powered convertible top. Everything you could ask for in looks and luxury. And then, there was the engine.

The general-production engine was set to achieve about 290 horsepower – one of the highest outputs of any commercially-available vehicle. After a little persuasion, the chaps at General Motors supplied me with my own optimized, fuel-injected version, reaching 330 horsepower. Paired with a racing-inspired 4-speed manual transmission (and my own mental modifications), I could go 0-60 miles-per-hour in under five seconds. As much as someone could possible love an inanimate object, I loved that car. It was impossible to drive it without smiling.

I reached Manhattan three days before Coraline was set to arrive, and immediately set out to make myself acquainted with the city. I hadn't actually been to New York City since I was a young lad, and I had forgotten how large and energetic a place it really was. There was more to do in that city than two people could accomplish in a week, much less a weekend, and I chronicled it all. I didn't know what sort of things Coraline would want to do during her visit, and I was the planning type anyway, so I was ready for any brand of entertainment her heart desired.

Time passed quickly, and before I knew it, it was time for Coraline to arrive. I considered waiting for her at the airport, but given the fact that there were three different airports servicing the area (not to mention the possibility of her arriving via boat, train or automobile), I decided to wait for her at the hotel, since that was the one place in the city where I knew I could find her.

There were multiple entrances to the large hotel, situated on different streets – I could only watch one at a time.

Missing her was not an option, so I gave up on the idea of _seeing_ her approach, and went with my sense of smell instead. There was a restaurant across the street to the north of the building that had an outdoor seating area. I took a book there with me, and sat down at one of the tables, pretending to read and drink a cup of coffee, while I waited for Coraline's familiar scent to appear.

It was early October, and the chilly weather, accompanied by a stiff breeze, kept anyone else from venturing toward the outdoor tables. After my second refill, I told the waiter he could stop checking on me, and I sat there alone, watching the time go by. It was 9am when I arrived at the restaurant, and I ended up waiting there all day, making sure to visit the restroom with some frequency to keep whatever cover I had intact.

I had actually begun to wonder if I had misunderstood Coraline's directions when I smelled it – warm honeysuckle, lilies and champagne – she was here. I left an exorbitant tip at the table and promptly exited the restaurant, following the sweet aroma that grew stronger by the second. Adjusting for the strength and direction of the wind, I suspected the smell was coming from the south. I headed down 50th street, coming to the intersection with Park Avenue, and my theory was confirmed. The sweet fragrance was potent – I was very close. I crossed the street between moving cars (something I wouldn't recommend, if you ever visit Manhattan), and started walking up the sidewalk as fast as "humanly" possible.

And then I saw her.

There, about 300 yards in front of me, was the most beautiful creature in existence, floating towards me with the grace of a butterfly. I hadn't seen Coraline with my own eyes in nearly 9 years, and even with the total recall of my vampire mind, seeing her in person was infinitely better than any memory I could recall. She was dressed more fashionably than I was accustomed to. She wore a narrow, shin-length black and white checked tweed skirt, with a matching top that was something like a half-jacket with short sleeves and a blouse underneath. On her hands, she wore white gloves in premium leather, and the color theme continued with a black felt beret that was offset slightly to one side and allowed for her lovely hair to flow naturally from under it. All the black and white was accented by a dash of red – in her high heeled shoes, her purse (_she carries a purse now?_) and her bold lipstick. Her eyes were covered by ornately-rimmed sunglasses, but I knew the exact moment when they connected with mine. Those red-lined lips opened slightly in surprise, and then quickly turned upward into a smile.

It was really her. At last.

Wesley and Harriet were probably somewhere around her, but I didn't take the time to look for them. Once my eyes locked onto Coraline, they were unwilling to look anywhere else. I paused there on the sidewalk for a brief moment, taking in the sight, before the rest of my body responded. Without a conscious thought, I bolted for her, covering a city block like a flash of lightning. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew it wasn't a good idea to move at that speed around other humans, but that voice was pushed so far to the periphery of my mind, I hardly heard it. None of that mattered. Coraline was here.

As soon as I reached her, I took her in my arms, lifting her from the ground and spinning her around. The feeling of her arms wrapped around me was so warm and soothing and wonderful that I was unable to really say anything. All I could do – all I wanted to do – was hold her.

"I missed you," she whispered into my ear after a short while, still wrapped up in my arms.

"Yes," I replied softly, "I've missed you, too. So very much..."

I didn't want to let her go, but my eyes wanted to see her again, so I released her at arm's length, and looked into her angelic face. It was amazing – I knew her face better than I knew my own, better than anyone else's on earth. And yet, as I looked at her that October afternoon, it was as if in some way, I was seeing her again for the first time. I was awestruck.

"I can't believe you're really here," I said at last, still reveling in the sight of her perfect smile. "It's... like a dream..."

"Yeah, I'm so glad you came. I didn't know if you got my letter or not..."

"I wrote back as soon as I got it. But then, I suppose you wouldn't have had the chance to read it yet..."

"No. I guess I'll have something to read when I go back, then."

"I suppose you will. So... how are you?" I asked, still giddy with excitement. "It's been ages..."

"I'm great! Great. Everything's... great."

"That's wonderful."

"And you – how are you? I haven't heard anything from you in more than a year."

"Yes, I'm terribly sorry about that. I'm very well, especially now that you're here. Harvey and Lucy are doing well also; they said to tell you 'hello.'"

I suddenly remembered that Harriet and Wesley were nearby, and glanced around to see their faces right behind Coraline.

"Hey Grant, nice to see you again," Wesley said, reaching over to hug me as Coraline released me momentarily. I greeted Harriet as well, before returning my attention to Coraline.

"Are you, um... free tonight? I mean... to spend some time together-"

"Absolutely!" Coraline interrupted, smiling widely. "I've got all evening, and most of the day tomorrow."

"That's terrific! So, you don't think Harriet and Wesley would mind me stealing you away for a while?"

"Ugh! Please, get her out of our hair," Harriet teased with a wink. "I've got some serious shopping to do."

"I'd be happy to," I replied. "And don't worry, I'll have her back by dawn."

"No need," Wesley said, placing his hands on Harriet's shoulders like the proud boyfriend/husband/whatever that he was. "Hattie's got you both covered. The forecast is 'cloudy' for the rest of our visit. Knock yourself out."

Wesley picked up Coraline's suitcase in addition to Harriet's, and the two of them entered the hotel, leaving Coraline and me to enjoy the rest of the evening together. There was a short, silent pause, as both of us tried to figure out what to say next. It had been a long time since we'd actually had a normal conversation, and neither of us was quite sure where to begin. I spoke first, after checking my wristwatch and realizing the relative lateness of the hour.

"So, I don't mean to be abrupt, but... how would you feel about watching the Philharmonic this evening? If we leave soon, we can make it there in time to get settled in before the performance."

"The New York Philharmonic? Sure, I'd love that. Where are they playing?"

"Carnegie Hall. I saw a performance there when I visited the city as a young lad. It's quite nice."

Coraline's face turned to one of surprise, her eyes conveying a moderate degree of concern.

"You want to watch the performance from inside the building?"

"Yes. I've got two tickets, fourth row back. They were actually a bit difficult to procure..."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, I ate before I left, but..."

Suddenly, the cause of her concern dawned on me. She was thirsty. At least, a little. Fortunately, I had a perfect solution.

"Not to worry. I have just the thing. We'll need to stop by my room before we go."

I took her up to my seventh-floor suite at the Waldorf, opening the refrigerator I had special-ordered from the hotel management, and producing a metal container with a nozzle on the top.

"What's this?" Coraline asked, as her face lit up with a curious smile.

"Blood. As fresh as I could manage."

"Oh. It's really cold..."

"Yes, I'm afraid I don't have the equipment to re-heat it for you here. I can assure you, though, it's not sour. I extracted it myself, from the freshest body I had in my shop. As soon as it was out of the body, I flash-froze it in liquid nitrogen, and transported it here in its frozen state. It only thawed a few hours ago. Try it – I think you'll find it's better than the last cold blood you tasted."

She reluctantly opened the lid to the container and took a sip. I waited on pins and needles, hoping she could at least find it satiable – a lot of the activities I had planned for the weekend depended on it.

"That's... actually pretty good," she said, sounding impressed. "Is this all for me?"

"Absolutely," I replied with great relief, "and I have plenty more if you want it."

Once she'd had her fill, we set off toward Carnegie Hall, which was close enough to reach on foot without disrupting our schedule. We made idle chit-chat on the way, and by the time we found our seats, it was almost time for the concert to begin.

_So much for quality conversation._

The concert was terrific, as expected, though I didn't really give a lot of attention to the music. The lion's share of my conscious thought was wrapped up in Coraline. It was still a bit surreal to think that she was actually sitting next to me – in person – and that there was no one in the city seeking to find us and kill us. I though about the things I wanted to talk about – serious things – and tried to sort through my weekend plans to see when we might be able to dive into that sort of conversation.

In addition to my mental planning, a sizable portion of my conscious thought was tied up in suppressing her blood cravings. As a result of spending large amounts of time with Harvey and Lucy in public, I had become quite skilled at controlling the urge in someone else's body. I had all confidence that she could sit through the entire concert without incident. It took a lot of focus, though.

As soon as the concert was over, we swiftly made our way out of the auditorium and into the comparatively clear air outside.

"Well... that was fun..." I said after a long pause as we stood on the sidewalk in front of the performance hall.

"Yeah, thanks! I can't believe I made it through the whole concert without... you know..."

"Yes, I'm um... glad you liked it."

The conversation was about as natural as a couple of twelve-year-olds at a middle school dance. I had to think of something to break the ice.

_Come on, Grant, you've been waiting for twelve years to talk to her. TALK TO HER!_

I fumbled internally with several sentence fragments that my mouth never gave birth to before a wonderful idea caught my eye. Just a few blocks north of us, I spotted a horse-drawn carriage click-clacking down the Central Park sidewalk.

_Perfect._

"Say, Coraline... how would you feel about a carriage ride?"

"Sure – it sounds fun," she replied before I had even fully articulated my sentence. I could tell she was as eager as I was to escape the conversational funk we had found ourselves in on the sidewalk.

We walked over to the park, and followed the path of the passing carriages until we found one waiting to be hired. I walked up to the rather lanky young man who was standing beside the large horse, and reached for my wallet.

"Hello there, are you still, um... open for business?"

"Shuah thing, mista," he said in perhaps the thickest New York accent I had heard to date. "Six dollas fa fifteen minutes, oah ten for a half-owah."

"Alright," I replied, trying to decode his hack-job of the English language, "and what would it cost for, say, three hours?"

"Oh, I dunno mista," he replied, scratching his head and sizing me and my companion up as he stroked the neck of his horse. "Bruno heah is awful tiyad, it bein' the end of da day and oahl... I'd hafta make it up to 'im..."

I reached into my wallet and pulled out two crisp $100 bills, placing them into his hand as I took a step forward.

"This should be enough to cover your expenses, don't you think?"

His face lit up like a child with a new toy.

"Well... uh... Bruno and I would be happy to serve you, mista..."

"Willoughby," I said, answering the implied question.

"Alright, then, Mista Willoughby. Right this way. Oh, and uh... ladies first," he said, escorting Coraline and me into the red velvet interior of the white carriage.

In no time we were off, slowly weaving our way through the densely-arranged trees, many of which had already begun to display the bright yellows, oranges and reds of fall. I don't know if it was the change of scenery, or just the passage of a little more time, but the two of us finally broke into a regular conversation.

"So... '_Willoughby_?' You're just using your real name now? I mean – out in public, and everything?" Coraline asked, turning to me and speaking softly enough that our carriage driver wouldn't overhear.

"Well, I don't use it for anything official, but when I'm out traveling – sure, why not? I don't think our driver here poses any real threat to my safety."

"Yeah, I guess not," she replied. "So, speaking of safety... and anonymity, and all that, how have things been for you lately? I feel like I haven't had a real update in years. I take it you're still in Montana..."

"Yes, I'm... terribly sorry about that, I... well, after Wally died, and then not hearing from you for so long... I dunno, I suppose I was sulking a bit. Sorry. I meant to write so much more often..."

"No, that's fine, Grant. I was the one who was out of order for so long. That's... I completely understand..."

"Good. So, we're... everything's..."

"Yeah. We're great. I mean, as far as I'm concerned."

"Well, then... that's a relief."

"Yeah, I guess it is," she replied, her chuckles finally breaking through the awkward tension. "So, then, you're just gonna have to catch me up. How are Harvey and Lucy? Have you made any new friends? Do you still watch football? C'mon, I need details."

"So much to cover... I don't even know where to begin."

The two of us slid into a long story-telling conversation, getting each other up-to-speed with the latest developments in our unfortunately distanced lives. I told her all about the business, and Harvey and Lucy, and about my thoughts on leaving Whitefish in the near future. She told me about the India war, the living conditions in Volterra, and her new occupation, which allowed her to come to New York. Before we knew it, our three hours were up, and our carriage driver pulled us back to the place where he had picked us up.

"Well, Mista Willoughby, I'm sorry ta say it, but I'm afraid ya time's up. Bruno and I will be back heah tomorrow aftanoon if ya'd like to take another ride."

Normally, I was a very obliging person, and I knew the young man and his horse needed a break, but I couldn't let this conversation end yet. There was still a lot I needed to talk to Coraline about, and the back of the carriage was the perfect place – there were minimal distractions, we were out of the public eye for the most part, and whatever faint human-blood smell there was in the wide open park air was masked by the thick-yet-tolerable scent of Bruno, the workhorse.

Besides all that, it was rather romantic.

No, I wasn't ready for that part of the night to be over quite yet. I pulled out my wallet again, leaning forward to talk quietly to the tiring carriage driver.

"What would you say about a couple more times 'round the park? My friend and I aren't quite finished talking yet..."

"Nah, I gotta get to bed," he replied, shrugging his shoulders. "Besides, my horse needs a break."

"What's your name, lad?"

"Oascah"

"Alright then, Oscar, let's make a deal, shall we? Why don't you and Bruno take a fifteen minute break and get something to eat," I said, placing another $100 bill in his hand, "and once you're rested, you can come back and resume your route. I'll pay you $200 an hour, and you'll keep going until I'm ready to get out. I'll even pay you the first two hours up front."

"Ya know... I think I'm feelin' betta already," Oscar replied with a wide smile.

I pulled out another $400 and placed it in his hand, reclining back to my seat and speaking to Coraline in a louder tone (as if she wouldn't have been able to hear my business arrangement earlier).

"Oscar and his horse are going to take a short break, and then we'll be back on the trail. I hope you don't mind the pause..."

"Not at all," she said with a wink.

Perfect. We had all night.

Oscar and Bruno were rested, fed, and back to work in no time, and they faithfully carried us around (albeit with periodic rest stops) all night long. The time they provided us with was golden – it was so nice to be able to talk at length to Coraline again, and there was no shortage of material to talk about. The one frustration that I had was my inability to move the discussion to the more serious matter of our status as friends/lovers/somewhere-in-between's. It wasn't for a lack of trying – I attempted to shift the conversation in that direction several times, but each time, she would change the subject before I got there. I didn't know if she was deliberately dodging the matter, or if I was just unlucky, but regardless of the reason, it never got discussed. I would have been more irritated about it, but it was hard to be anything but radiant with Coraline near. I had forgotten just how joy-inspiring her physical proximity could be – even if we hadn't talked at all, I still would have been walking on cloud nine. I wasn't going to let any disappointments dampen my spirits. The heavy conversations would have to wait.

Once the sun began to lighten the cloud-filled morning sky, we decided it was time to release our dedicated carriage driver. I paid him the hourly wage we had discussed, and threw in another $200 tip on top of it all. He and Bruno could take the rest of the month off with all the money I gave them. Normally, I would never have even considered putting out that much money for something as simple as a carriage ride, but this was my only time to be with Coraline – I was pulling out all the stops.

We wandered aimlessly around downtown Manhattan for several hours of the early morning, exploring and making small talk like we so often used to.

And then Tiffany's opened.

Tiffany & Co., as I soon learned, was the premier high-end jeweler in the country, and they happened to have a relatively new flagship store in downtown Manhattan. We were actually waiting outside the store when the clerks opened the doors, and as soon as we were let inside, Coraline lit up like a giddy schoolgirl. We spent two hours and forty-six minutes looking at virtually every diamond in the entire showroom. If I had been there with anyone other than Coraline, I would have been bored to tears, but it was entertainment enough just seeing her react the way she did. For someone who talked about not being a "girly girl," she had an awfully powerful affinity for diamonds. She shared with me the intricacies of every gem – if the cut was good or poor, the little bubbles and "imperfections" that made each stone unique, and of course, how it glittered brilliantly under the showroom lights. I must admit, they were beautiful stones, but at the end of the day, they were still... stones.

Dug up from the ground.

I felt a little awkward, having overly-friendly salespersons wait on us for nearly three hours without anything to show for it, so I offered to buy Coraline one of the countless rings she tried on. She was resolutely opposed to the idea, but I was insistent on walking out of the store with something, so we compromised, and I bought her a diamond necklace – one of the finer ones they had available.

The necklace cost more than the carriage ride, and though I had plenty of cash in town with me, I was beginning to run out of bills on hand, so we made a quick stop back by the hotel to restock my wallet and get Coraline another quart of blood to drink.

Once we had sufficiently re-fueled, I proposed my next planned activity – two front-row tickets to the World Series of baseball. Coraline cocked her head slightly and spoke through a curious smile.

"Do you even like baseball?"

"Sure I do. I play it every time I visit the Cullens. It's quite an enjoyable pastime."

"Oh, I forgot. You're into American sports now..."

"Well, it may never live up to English football, but it's a lot of fun to watch."

She looked a little uncertain. "You will explain it to me, right?"

"Of course. You're a bright girl – you'll pick it up in no time."

"Okay. Well, let's give it a try."

We made the decision to travel the seven miles to Yankee Stadium on foot, since we had plenty of time (and the confines of a human-filled subway car were less than desirable), and arrived there with about forty minutes to spare before the game began. We found our way to our seats, which were just off-center behind home plate, and had barely been seated when Coraline perked up, suddenly intense and worried.

"Vampires – There's someone else here. Actually, a lot of them."

I smelled for them as well, and she was right. Somewhere amidst the sea of human bodies and their food-like aromas, the sweet smell of a vampire coven could be faintly discerned.

"Grant, we need to get out of here," she whispered, grabbing my hand for the first time, which completely distracted me from the urgency of the matter.

She noticed.

"Hey, are you listening? We need to leave. Now."

I snapped back to my senses, and was about to scurry out the nearest exit with her, when I noticed something relieving.

"I recognize them," I said abruptly, standing up with Coraline and walking from my seat, but not toward the exit. "C'mon, I want to introduce you to a couple of my friends."

We stepped through the crowded seats to the left field upper deck, where five of my good friends were awaiting my arrival.

"Coraline, I'd like you to meet Carlisle, Esme, Emmet, Rosalie and Edward Cullen. Everyone, this is my friend Coraline."

They all offered the standard greetings, but it was Esme who was a sort of spokesperson for the family, stepping forward to give Coraline a hug.

"It's nice to finally meet you," she said with a warm smile. "We've heard so much about you, we feel as if we already know you."

"Yeah, and almost half of what we heard was good, so I guess we can be friends," Emmet teased.

"This is a pleasant surprise to see you all here," I said, "where are Jasper and Alice?"

"Jasper wasn't feeling quite up to this much human contact," Carlisle answered. "He was disappointed to miss seeing you – Alice said you might be here."

"Well, tell him that I said hello, and that I'll have to plan another visit soon," I replied.

We stood there and talked with them until it was almost time for the game to start. They offered to let us sit in Jasper and Alice's seats with them, and I would have declined, but Coraline jumped at the idea. We sat in the upper deck with them for the first four innings before moving back to our own seats. It actually turned out to be a good thing – she now had six baseball tutors instead of one. Well, actually, it was more like four. Emmet was too engrossed in the game to offer any instruction, and Edward never said two words the whole time – it was like he was somewhere else completely.

Coraline and I watched the rest of the game from our front-row seats, talking intermittently between at-bats and innings. After the game, we reconnected with the Cullens (who were thrilled to see the Yankees win), and by the time we had finished talking with them, it was nearly 5:00pm, which didn't leave us much time. Coraline had to be at her contact point in Queens by 7:30 so she could conduct the business she was in town for – something she reassured me would be over in three hours or less. We spent the remainder of our time together standing on top of New York.

Literally.

We went up to the observation deck of the Empire State Building, the tallest structure on the planet, and soaked in the view for a while. It was quite windy up there, enough to make casual conversation a little difficult. Add to that the nosy young lady who kept staring at us suspiciously, and there really wasn't a chance to get to those more serious topics I had been trying to bring up all day. Instead, we chatted about random nonsense and remarked about the view, which, as nice as it was, seemed a little underwhelming after sitting atop a 22,000-ft mountain. At any rate, it was still nice to be with her. Before I knew it, it was time for her to get to the other side of town for business, and I was on my own again.

Coraline's trans-Atlantic flight home didn't leave until Sunday morning, so we would have a few more golden hours together once her official business was finished. I went back to the hotel to wait for her there, and tried unsuccessfully to occupy my attention with something other than her. The three hours it took for her to return crept by like a snail on tranquilizers. If I hadn't been able to hear my wristwatch ticking, I would have thought time had stopped moving altogether.

_Ugh. This will be your life again tomorrow. No Coraline._

When I heard the soft tap on the door of my room, I had to work to temper my enthusiasm. After all, I was still a respectable, confident man. Even if I did feel like a puppy whose master had come home, I didn't want to come across that way.

"Hey, how did it go? Did you get what you needed from him – or was it her? I guess it really doesn't matter, huh? W-would you like to come in? Please, come in. Have another drink. Did I ask you how it went? Good, I hope. Right?"

Some nervous thirteen-year-old had taken over my brain.

_Great, Grant. Way to be calm and collected._

"Everything went fine," she answered with a reluctant smile. "And I'd love another drink, if you've got more of that bottled stuff."

"Certainly. I'll have it right up for you," I replied, glancing at my watch as I retrieved another canister from the refrigerator.

_10:42. Taking into account the time it'll take to get to the airport and board the plane before takeoff, that leaves us with... about nine hours. Nine hours! How will I ever manage?_

I still had so much planned for the weekend, and there would never be enough time to fit everything in – I would just have to decide what to cut. Which ended up being everything.

"So, I hear that Times Square is quite entertaining in the evening time," I said as I handed Coraline the canister, "and I have a list of music clubs in the area that are said to be top-notch, if you're in a musical mood..."

"Actually, I was thinking... what if we got out of town for a while?" She answered, after finishing the blood.

"Out... what, um... how far?"

"I dunno, just... out. Would that be okay? I know you had plans..."

"No, no... that's perfectly alright. The most important plan is to be with you as much as possible," I replied, formulating a new plan in my head. This could still work out quite well. "I can do 'out.'"

I took Coraline down to the main floor lobby of the hotel, and had the valet pull up my Corvette. It was time that the two things I loved most in life met each other.

Even in the clouded evening light, the car glistened like a jewel, practically dripping swagger.

_Oh, yeah. She has to be impressed._

"So, would you like to take a drive?" I asked, trying not to seem too proud.

"Sure. Sounds like fun."

She wasn't quite as blown-away as I was expecting, but then, she hadn't been inside yet. We climbed in and drove slowly through the tight grid-work of roads, heading across the Hudson river and through Newark, New Jersey. And then we hit the open road.

"Are you ready for this?" I asked with a devious smile as we left the town and started my customized power-convertible top.

"Uh, sure. I think."

"Hold on to your hat."

I hit the gas pedal, and the tires screeched under the suddenly increased torque load. With a little help from my own mental coaxing, we were at 80mph in a matter of seconds, and by the time you could count to ten, we were cruising through the widening landscape at just under 135mph.

_Swagger._

"So, what do you think now?" I asked, a proud grin pushing its way through as I tried to make out her face amidst the wind-tossed curls of hair that danced around it violently.

"I think you're crazy," she said, finally coercing her hair to stay behind her head, "but I like it. It's a good crazy."

We kept driving for over an hour, crossing over into Pennsylvania and spending a little time cruising through the winding roads of a sizable wildlife reserve there. Speed is one thing, speed around curves is another altogether. The smell of burning rubber mingled with the scents of maple and poplar in the clear forest air as I pushed the car through tight turns and twists, throwing our bodies around the cabin like a carnival ride. We both smiled and laughed like schoolchildren, temporarily oblivious to all the worries and stress of the outside world. It was tremendously therapeutic.

By 1:00am, we were ready to head back to the city (and running low on gas), and by 2:15, we were crossing the bridge back into New York.

That's when Coraline got her next great idea.

"So, where to next?" I asked, as we slowed to a crawl in town.

"Do you know where the Manhattan Bridge is?" She asked, still looking straight ahead.

"Of course. Is that where you want to go?" I had committed the entire city map to memory. I knew where _everything_ was.

"We went by there on our way into town. It was nice. I thought... I dunno, maybe we could go there to... unwind a little."

"It sounds lovely. Would you prefer to go in the car, or on foot?"

"I think your car deserves a break. You pushed it even harder than Bruno."

"I guess you're right. Otherwise, I may be walking back to Montana."

We left the car at the hotel and set out towards the bridge. We were about 4 miles away, which, for the amount of time we had left, was a long way to cover on foot. Given the time of day – or, rather, night – we decided to risk taking the subway. Fortunately, we had a rail car completely to ourselves, and after exiting at the nearest station, we were able to reach the bridge easily by 3am. We set out on the steel structure at a casual pace until about halfway across, where Coraline stopped and began to climb over the side railing.

"What... are you doing?" I asked, as she positioned her body on the outside of the handrail.

"Getting a better spot. C'mon..."

I followed her over the side, and we climbed onto the metal trussing underneath the roadway. It was a surprisingly nice place to sit and talk. For starters, there was no one around – at least no one that looked closely enough to see us. The noise of the city life was still out there, but it was more subdued and distant now, drowned out by the relaxing sound of the water moving below us and the occasional whoosh of a car passing by overhead. And then there was the view – all the skyscrapers of the financial district were in plain sight, framed by the iconic Brooklyn Bridge. It was very nearly perfect. We didn't go there for the view, though. We went there to talk.

"It's actually really beautiful at night, isn't it?" She asked, legs swinging freely over the ledge like a schoolgirl.

"Yes, I suppose it is."

"I actually like it better than the view from the Empire State Building. I mean, looking down on everything from above is nice, but this view... it has _character_. Don't you think so?"

"Character... well, you would be the one to know about that, wouldn't you?"

"It doesn't work on cities," she replied, looking at me with a sly smile, "I only read people."

"Right. So, what do you see in me? I mean, right now..."

She narrowed her eyes, tilting her head slightly as she looked into mine. For a moment there, I forgot what we were talking about – it was just such a magical thing, gazing into her eyes like that.

"You seem sad... that we're almost out of time, right?"

"Well, yes, but I'm happy to be here."

"Yeah, me too."

"What else do you see?"

"Oh, I dunno. A lot of things. You seemed to be a little distracted when I was staring at you. And now you're looking at the river because you're embarrassed that I noticed. And earlier, when you were throwing all that money around with the carriage driver and at Tiffany's, I think you were showing off just a little bit, now that you're rich, and all."

I hadn't even noticed at the time, but when I thought about it, she was right. She was spot-on with every observation, which meant she knew where this was headed next.

"Coraline... you know what else is on my mind. It's been there the entire weekend."

"No... seriously, I don't know what you're talking about."

Normally, she was a pretty good liar, but I didn't believe her. She knew.

"You do know. I think that's why you wanted to come here – so we could just talk."

"Well, yes... I admit, everything we did yesterday – and Friday night – it was fun, and all, but I wanted some time for us to just be together. Sometimes it's nice to just be."

"That's true. It is nice. So listen, I was hoping we could, um... talk about-"

"Hey look – over there," she interrupted, pointing up at the sky. "There's a star poking through the clouds. And... another one, right there. Do you see it?"

"Yeah, I see it. It's nice."

"I'm gonna have to give Harriet a hard time about it. She's slacking off."

She was trying to dodge the subject again. Well this time, I wasn't going to let her. I needed to know about 'us.' I needed answers.

"How long are we going to do this?" I asked, looking out across the city.

"Do what?"

"Keep avoiding the subject."

"Grant... I-"

"What are we, Coraline?"

I turned and looked into her eyes, which wore the pain and uncertainty that was in her heart. We remained locked in that gaze for a long moment as her mouth opened to speak, but said nothing. Finally, she looked away, answering my question in a barely-audible voice.

"I don't know how to answer you."

"Answer me with the truth. What are we? Are we friends? Lovers? Somewhere in between? That question's been driving me mad for nine years. What are we?"

"I don't know, Grant. It's confusing. And complicated."

"Why? What is there to be confused about? Is it really such a horrible proposition – the idea of being in love with me? Coraline, I lo-"

"Don't," she interrupted, cutting off the phrase she knew was coming. "Don't... just... just don't. I'm not ready to have this conversation, alright? Grant, my feelings for you are real, and... I think you know that they go beyond friendship. There are too many other things in the way right now, and..."

"I know it's complicated, Coraline. I just... if I had a definition to go by..."

"Do we have to put a label on it? I like spending time with you, you like spending time with me. Can't we just leave it at that – at least for now?" She reached over and grabbed my hand, interlacing our fingers together. "We only have a couple of hours left. I don't want to spend them arguing. Can we just talk about something else, for now?"

What could I say? She did have a point. As frustrating as our relational ambiguity was, I still loved her, and cherished every moment of time with her like a dying man his last breath. I held her hand, and we talked, and it was good.

We sat there for the next few hours, talking and laughing like old friends as we watched the sun come up over the water, coloring the clouded sky like a magnificent oil painting. Eventually, our time came to an end, and though I still didn't have all the answers I was hoping for, I felt satisfied enough just having time with Coraline. There was no way I could have left New York disappointed. I went with her to the airport to meet up with Wesley and Harriet, said a final farewell to all three of my dear friends, and just like that, they were gone, heading back to a place I could never go.

The sudden mood swing when they left was immense. It was as if the sun had disappeared from the world completely, and everything had become drab and dreary. I stood there at the plane terminal for hours, unsure of what to do next, and unmotivated to do anything at all. Eventually, I gathered the resolve to go back to the hotel and prepare to return to Montana. I was feeling lonelier than ever before – I needed to be around friends.

I sulked all the way back to the hotel, making the trip on foot to give myself more time to think, which in this case, was a bad thing. All my thoughts were spinning into a whirlpool of depression as I walked through the ornate lobby, up the elevator and down the seemingly endless pathway back to my room.

I stopped halfway down the hall.

There, arms crossed, leaning against my door, was a familiar face, though one I didn't expect to see here.

"Hello, Grant," he said with a neutral expression. "Let's talk."


	5. Chapter 5

5. ASSOCIATES

- - - CORALINE GRAY - - -

"Alright, spill it. I want every gory detail - where did you go, what did you talk about, how long did you make out – I wanna hear it all."

I knew Harriet was eager to get the scoop on my weekend with Grant, but I didn't think it would start _quite_ this soon.

We were still on the runway.

"Hattie, he can still hear us."

The odds of Grant being able to make out our conversation from the terminal were slim, but I didn't want to talk about everything yet, and I was reaching for an excuse.

It didn't work.

"Oh, what_ever_! He can't tell what we're saying. Stop stalling! I've been patient all weekend, just like I promised. Now, tell me, how was it?"

I looked out the tiny double-paned window on the wall beside me, catching the last sliver of eye contact with Grant before the plane taxied out of sight and prepared to take off. He looked so sad – it was breaking my heart to leave. I didn't feel like talking, but just like every other situation in my life, I sucked it up and did what I had to do.

"It was fine, Harriet. Thanks for the clouds."

"Nope. That stinks, Coraline. I don't want the glazed-over version. I'm your _sister_. How was the weekend – really? Was it what you hoped for?"

_Fine. You want the truth? The truth is depressing sometimes._

"It was... weird."

"Oh. Really?" She responded, her eyebrows bunched together in inquisitive concern. "'Weird' like, bad weird?"

"No, I guess not bad, just... weird."

"Explain."

I huffed a sigh and rested my head against the wall of the plane as it began to accelerate down the runway.

"It was like the whole time, we were almost there – like we were pretending to talk and be fine, but something was in the way."

"Like what?"

"The whole weekend, we could never get past the elephant in the room."

"Which... is what?"

"What do you think, Harriet? I'm in love with him."

"Oh my god – you didn't tell him?"

"No. I wanted to, but..."

"But what? Why wouldn't you?"

"It's... complicated. I mean, it's not just the long-distance thing, but that's part of the problem."

"Okay, so what's the rest of the problem?"

I glanced over my shoulder to make sure Wesley wasn't eavesdropping. He had graciously traded seats with me so I could be next to Harriet on the flight home, and he was eight rows back, flipping casually through a magazine. He wasn't really the nosy type, so I went ahead with the conversation.

"I don't think I'm good for him."

"What? That's... that's just... no, you're awesome, Coraline. You're a great girl, and a real catch, and-"

"I didn't say I wasn't good _enough_ for him, I said I'm not good for him. Did you see him there at the airport? He was like a lost puppy. I'm just tearing his heart up."

"Darn right, you are."

I was taken back by her response. 'Darn' was as close as Harriet ever came to swearing. She was obviously upset.

"He looks sad because _he loves you_, and you have to go away," she continued. "You know what's worse than that? The fact that he's probably driving home right now, wondering if you even care about him at all. I don't understand how you can feel that way and not tell him. I think it's cruel."

"I want to protect him, Hattie, I don't want to hurt him. I'd rather have him hurt a little, though, if it keeps him alive."

"What do you mean, 'if it keeps him alive?'"

"If I told him everything – how I felt about him, and about living in Volterra, and about being around Philippe – what are the odds that he would try to 'rescue' me?"

"Well, I guess you have a point..."

"I love him, but I don't want him to try and come for me, 'cause if he does, he'll die. They'll catch him, and kill him, and I can't bear that, Harriet. I can't..."

It was too much. I wanted to cry. I buried my head in my hands, as my sister gently caressed my back. Just thinking about the whole situation made me sick. I wanted to open up and let Grant love me, but I was afraid. I didn't want to be hurt again. I wanted to tell him I loved him like crazy, and kiss him for hours (and more), but I couldn't risk him doing something stupid in the name of love and get himself killed. It really wasn't fair. But then, when had my life ever been fair?

"I wish I could help," Harriet said softly, still stroking my back.

"You can't. Nobody can. It's just all screwed up."

Conversation over.

Harriet and I made idle chit-chat for most of the flight back to Rome, and by the time the plane touched down, I was more than ready to go back to my room and have some time alone with my thoughts.

Of course, life couldn't be that easy.

There, standing on the tarmac, ready to talk to me the moment I stepped off the plane, was Philippe.

_Why, God, why?_

Philippe was an expert delegator – I hardly ever saw him in person anymore, especially since he had taken over the talent development department for the Volturi. The fact that he made the trip down to Rome to talk to me in person was a less-than-subtle clue.

This was important.

He was speaking before my feet hit the ground, bypassing the usual flatteries and handing me a folder filled with papers and photographs.

"Coraline, I'm going to need you to do an important favor for me, and it's very urgent."

"Okay..."

"There's a contact in here I need you to evaluate for me, one of... unique interest to my department. Why don't you step into my car, and I'll explain further."

"What about Harriet and Wesley?"

"They'll be escorted back to Volterra separately. Now please, come this way..."

I stepped into the car and shut the door behind me, sitting for a few awkwardly silent seconds while we waited for Wes and Harriet to move out of hearing range. Once the coast was clear, Philippe continued my briefing.

"Your primary target is Briscoe Parrish. He's an American vampire, a special, as far as our intelligence can gather. The trouble is, he's quite dangerous – he's already responsible for the deaths of two senior Guard members, so he needs to be handled with care. He's taken up residence in a remote desert town on the Western coast of Chile. Your team will find him, assess him, and bring him back to me, along with any of his associates, unharmed. Your plane leaves in half an hour."

I knew Philippe far too well to take this at face value. There was more going on here, and I wasn't going anywhere until I knew the whole story.

"If he's so dangerous, why are you sending me there? Why not just have Demetri and the Guard go get him?"

Philippe sighed, rolling his eyes before answering.

"Must you question everything?"

"If I'm doing this for you, I need to know why."

"Briscoe knows the Guard too well – he knows how they operate, what personnel they use... he can practically predict their every step. I can't just send the Guard there, so I'm using my own team. Piers, Moses, Kainano, Mbete and the Mongolian. Trust me, you'll be perfectly safe."

"So we're bringing him back by force?"

"If necessary. I'm hopeful that he'll decide to come back of his own accord. If he doesn't, you'll be well equipped to handle the situation."

"If he's hiding, why would he want to come back with us?"

"Who said he was hiding?"

"No one lives in the desert just for fun. You go there if you don't want to be found."

Philippe exhaled sharply through his nose and paused a moment, frustrated my by persistence. He was anxious to get me out of the car.

"Briscoe is officially a wanted fugitive. Demetri has orders to find him and kill him. I, on the other hand, see potential usefulness in him. If I can convince the Three that Briscoe can be beneficial to our cause, I'm confident they'll let him live. This mission is off the record. It is imperative that you find him and bring him in before Demetri does. Now, I have no more time for questions. Piers should be arriving any moment, and you'll be taking off as soon as he's here. Have a good trip."

He snapped his fingers, and a large, burly man opened my door for me. Philippe may have answered some questions, but he was still hiding something, and I didn't like secrets.

"What else is going on here, Philippe? What aren't you telling me?"

"I told you, I'm out of time. The others can fill you in on the details during your flight."

"I want details from you. What's going on here?"

Philippe reached across me and pulled my door shut again, moving to within six inches of my face with an icy glare.

"I've been given full authority over your prison sentence, and I'm ordering you onto that plane now. Your cooperation is not optional."

He opened the door again, and I stepped out into the clear night sky, as the big bodyguard escorted me to the grey cargo plane nearby. Philippe was obviously hiding something; I would just have to find the truth another way.

Once the plane was airborne, I started trying to piece together what was really going on. I talked to Piers first, since he was in charge of the operation. He told me exactly the same thing that Philippe told me. He knew something more, but he was locked up tighter than a bank vault. Moses and Mbete were in the cabin with the pilots, so I tried the Mongolian next. He was no help at all – he pretended not to speak English, and hardly said anything the whole flight. The only other person in the cargo hold with me was Kainano, who legitimately didn't speak English.

Still no answers.

We switched planes in Senegal, moving to a larger military transport. Everyone was in the same seating area this time, so I found a spot next to Mbete. Unfortunately, Piers sat on his other side, so I kept my mouth shut for the most part.

As I sat in silence, I couldn't help but notice the leather-wrapped, ivory-tipped hilt of his battle axe, poking out slightly from a canvas sack at his side. I flashed back for a moment, remembering the grisly sight in Malmedy years ago, when that axe hacked vampires in half like they were made of butter. This was one guy you didn't want to mess with.

"I do not intend to use it," he said in his thick African accent, obviously noticing the attention I was paying his axe, "but I brought it along just in case a need arises."

"Yeah... well, let's hope that doesn't happen."

"Let us hope," he echoed with a warm smile.

By the time we were an hour from Brazil, I saw Moses move up to the pilot's cabin for a moment. I figured it was my last chance for some answers, so I joined him there and asked the same questions. He didn't know any more than I did about the mission, but he did know a good deal about the rest of the team, which was useful.

Piers was an old vampire and longtime Guard member. He had some sort of sound wave power, and could create pulses of air powerful enough to knock people off their feet from thirty yards away. He was a major player in the India war, and was Philippe's right-hand-man in everything combat-related. According to Moses, he was well-known for his out-of-the-box tactics, though they usually involved excessive violence.

Kainano was a huge vampire from the Samoan islands with waist-length black braided hair and tattoos literally from head to toe. He was relatively new to Philippe's special guard detail, and up until the India war, he had never really seen any combat whatsoever. Besides his obvious strength and size, he had the ability to mess with his enemy's perception and make them see three of him when he attacked. Another guy you want to have on your side.

I also learned a little more about our target, Briscoe Parrish. He was a small-time prospector in the California gold rush when Valdahar, one of the 5 original Guard members, changed him. Rumor had it that Valdahar chose Briscoe because of his similarity to his long-dead human son. Valdahar taught Briscoe all about the Guard, including how to effectively fight against them, and when Demetri and the Volturi found out about it, they confronted him. He was killed in the ensuing battle, and Briscoe vowed revenge on the Guard.

We changed planes again in Brazil, and finally arrived in La Paz, Bolivia, which was the closest serviceable airport to our destination. We would have to cover the last 500 miles on foot.

Through the desert.

_Awesome._

We went about 20 miles south of the airport, where Piers pulled us together to give us our instructions.

"Alright everyone, listen carefully. It is imperative that everyone sticks together – I don't want anyone getting lost in the desert. Our intelligence suggests that the target is holed up in an abandoned nitrate-mining town about five hundred miles southwest of our location. We have no way of knowing for sure what building he'll be in, or whether or not he will be in the town when we arrive, so I need everyone on high alert. Our orders are to apprehend Briscoe Parrish and any of his associates alive, whether they choose to cooperate or not. Use lethal force only as a last resort. I will be running point on the operation; Mbete and the Mongolian will apprehend Parrish. Moses and Kainano will subdue any associates, and Coraline – you just stay out of the way until we've got things under control. Got it?"

We all nodded our heads.

"Good. We leave at daybreak."

"Wait – daybreak?" I said, as he started to walk away. "Shouldn't we move at night? I mean, this is the desert – there's nothing but sunshine out here."

"Exactly. Briscoe believes he is safe, hiding in the middle of the desert, because he knows the Guard would never risk traveling through open daylight to get to him. Well, we're not the Guard. The day is when his defenses will be at their weakest."

"But what about the locals? Won't they see us?"

"They won't live to tell about it. We leave at daybreak. Understood?"

"Understood."

As soon as the sun started to peek over the mountains to our east, we took off, avoiding the sparsely-populated villages that were scattered across the arid countryside. There were a few unfortunate farmers and travelers that saw us rush by, and each one was met with a swift death. No one even took the time to drink the blood – we had a schedule to keep to.

The terrain gradually changed as we pushed further south, growing drier and more desolate, until I wasn't quite sure if we were even on the same planet. I had been to dry places before. I had been to deserts. This was on a totally different level. By the time we were within 100 miles of our target, all traces of living things were gone. There were no people, no trees, not even a single cactus. Eventually, even the sand disappeared – everything was rock. Even for a vampire's ears, there was no sound to be heard out there, except for the crunch of the jagged, quarter-sized rocks that shifted and cracked under our feet as we ran in a single-file line across the wasteland. It was a good thing that Piers seemed to know where we were headed, because after a few miles in this place, everything started to look the same – endless rolling black hills. No clouds, no mountains on the horizon. All you could see was rocks and sky for miles on end. It was hard to imagine anyone living there – even a fugitive.

The wind was blowing pretty hard out of the east, so we circled around about thirty miles to the west of the target village and prepared for our attack. The mining town was built on a large, triangular plain, and in terms of defending from a vampire attack, it was actually a great location. There was nothing but gravel-sized rock for 25 miles in every direction. No buildings, no trees, no hills or boulders. Nothing. Even with the wind blowing against us, there was no way to be sure Briscoe wouldn't smell us coming. All we could do was hope. And run fast.

We closed the last 30 miles quickly, running in a tight, straight line to try and disguise our numbers, in case anyone happened to see us coming. Once we got within eyesight, I saw that the "village" was more like a ghost town. The drab, concrete and steel buildings were run-down and nearly blended in with the sea of brownish-grey around them. The abandoned living quarters were all set up in a grid, every identical unit evenly spaced, and from what I could tell, there wasn't a single window left in its frame. On the southeastern side of the area was a huge pit, where miners used to dig up raw minerals. Just outside the pit was a large building, probably a refinery of some kind, and next to that was a rail station, which connected to an old, broken-down railroad track.

The whole town was less than one square mile, but our target could have been hiding in any one of the thirty-or-so buildings, so we had a tough assignment ahead of us. Once we were about three miles away, I smelled it – buried beneath the dust and minerals was the unmistakable scent of a vampire. We were in luck. Once we got a little closer, I could discern two different scents, and the group split accordingly. Piers, Mbete and the Mongolian veered off and approached from the North. Moses and Kainano circled around and came in from the south, just beside the mining pit. I was given orders to stay behind, but since when did I listen to orders? I decided to hit the town straight on from the east. Even if these guys did try to run away, they would both have to head the same direction, and there was nothing that way for miles. We had them trapped.

I got to the housing grid just after Piers and his group, and started slowly moving down the rows of buildings, trying to follow my nose. The smell of rock and salt and copper muddied things up a bit, as did the swirling wind between the buildings, but I could still smell them – I was getting closer. Everything was eerily quiet for at least three minutes, and then the action started. I heard a loud rumble (like that of a vampire body bursting through a concrete wall) followed by the sounds of clashing limbs and people shouting. The voice I heard the most clearly was Piers – they must have found their man. I turned to head north, and took off in a dead run, which is probably why I didn't notice the glistening hand reach around the corner of one of the buildings until it collided with my face.

I climbed back to my feet and spun around quickly, watching as a shifty figure darted between two buildings to my left.

_Screw the orders. This one's mine._

I chased after the vampire – a girl, judging by the hair and general figure – and after a quick left turn of my own, she was in my sights again. My vision was a little blurry from the blow to my head, which still throbbed like crazy. I was pretty sure I had a broken nose, and maybe a cheekbone as well. The pain didn't stop me, though, it just made me want to catch the stupid girl and break _her _nose. I was starting to catch up to the her when she turned again, this time heading south toward the mine. I called out for Moses and Kainano, but I didn't smell them nearby. They must have already cleared the mining area and moved into the town. It was all on me to catch this one.

The girl jumped through a second-story window and into the large building near the mine. I thought for a second about circling around and trying to cover the exits, but for all I knew, there could have been some kind of underground escape route. I had to go in there after her. I jumped through the same window, which was a mistake, because she nailed me in the abdomen with a steel I-beam as soon as I was inside. I felt three of my lower ribs crack as they absorbed the blow, and slumped to the floor in pain. Luckily, though, I wasn't totally incapacitated. I picked up the beam (which she let go of to run away), and threw it at her, catching her in the back of the heel just as she was pivoting to jump downstairs. She shrieked in pain as I got up and started chasing her again, more determined than ever.

I followed her as she weaved through the steel and concrete building, and by the time she broke through the loading bay door, I was less than twenty feet behind her. Once we were back outside, I had the clear advantage. Whatever I had done to her foot with that steel beam was slowing her down, and I caught up to her less than a quarter-mile outside of the town, bringing her down hard on the rocky soil. She tried to fight back with her hands, but I was too fast and strong for her, and after a few good shots to her face, she was ready to give up. Moses and Kainano finally showed up a few moments later, and things got under control, which was good, because I really felt like hitting her a few more times.

We moved our prisoners into one of the abandoned houses, and Piers explained our intentions to them, which helped diffuse the situation a little. Once things were calm enough, we sat and listened to them tell their side of the story, which was where my skills came into play.

The woman's name was Moira, and she and Briscoe were mates. The official story was that seven years ago, a Volturi Guard member had fallen in love with Moira, and when she didn't return the feelings, he tried to go public in downtown Dublin, and was, of course, put down promptly. The leadership in Volterra felt like the circumstances around this lover's "suicide" were fishy, and they sent a detachment of soldiers to bring Moira in for questioning. Briscoe found out about it, and attacked the convoy on the way back to Volterra, killing two Guard members and rescuing Moira. The two of them had been living in the Chilean desert ever since, roaming from town to town, trying to stay hidden.

The story was nice, and all. It all made sense. The problem was, I didn't believe it. I got a bad vibe from Briscoe. He was shifty – the kind of guy you can never trust, and who never trusts anyone. His allegiance could be flipped like a light switch. He was very protective of Moira, and the main reason he lied about everything was to try and keep her from being implicated in anything, which was interesting, since he was supposedly our main target anyway. I never picked up any hint of a special ability with him, other than a vast knowledge of Volturi Guard protocols. Moira, though, she was a different story.

The first thing that struck me as odd was how she had Briscoe strung around her little finger. She was practically attached to him, and every time he answered a question, she would stare at him intently, as if she was watching to make sure he said things the way she wanted him to. She played the victim card pretty well – most of the rest of the team bought it hook, line and sinker. The act didn't fool me, though, I could read her like a book. I knew she was lying, I just didn't know what the truth was.

After interviewing her and watching her interact with the others, I developed a few theories. Even though she and Briscoe were "mates," she didn't love him, she was just using him. Of course, he seemed to believe she was head-over-heels for him, which was a testament to how good a liar she really was.

Or maybe it was something else altogether.

I kept noticing something strange about her intentions when she was around Briscoe. It was more than hoping or wanting him to say the right thing in the right way, it was almost like she was telling him what to say, or more accurately, what to believe. It was like his story was really _her_ story, and he was just corroborating it.

Moira had an angry, jaded tint to her emotions, something you might carry around as a result of rejection. I suspected that the story with the suicidal guard was backwards – he was the one who rejected her, and when she found out, she got revenge. It was a bit of a stretch, but I suspected she was some sort of pusher – someone who can place thoughts into another person's head without their knowledge of it. It would have been easy for her to convince this guard to commit suicide, and it would explain her control over Briscoe. The only thing I couldn't figure out is why she didn't use it on me or any of the other team members. I knew firsthand, she didn't want to be caught. If she really could push thoughts, she would have made us believe we had orders to release her – it would have been a lot easier than running.

Pushers were rare, but there had been a few documented cases over the years, and they were highly sought-after assets in Volterra. All of a sudden, the obvious struck me – that was what Philippe was hiding, why he sent us after Briscoe and any "associates." He was after Moira the whole time, and he wanted to keep her ability a secret. Pushers could be very dangerous – he was probably willing to risk me knowing about her in order to have confirmation of her ability before he got too close to her. Of course, these were all still theories – I had no way to prove anything. I had a good hunch, though, and my hunches were almost always right. Philippe was obviously collecting talent, even if it came with some seriously questionable characters. Whatever he was cooking up, I didn't want any part in it. The problem was, I didn't have a say in the matter. I was helping him, whether I liked it or not.


	6. Chapter 6

6. RELOCATION

- - - GRANT WILLOUGHBY - - -

"Edward? What are you still doing here? Is everything alright?"

"You tell me."

I stepped forward to my room slowly, still trying to understand what was going on. Edward continued.

"Relax, nothing's wrong. Alice said you were going to take things pretty hard when Coraline left. I stayed around to make sure you're alright."

"Really? She saw that?"

"Yeah, among other things. You don't handle loneliness too well, do you?"

"Well, historically speaking, I guess not."

"Listen, you don't have to be alone right now if you don't want to be. Carlisle told my school that I'm sick at home with mono. I've got nothing but time. And... if you wanna talk about it..."

"Edward – thank you, but... everything in this city is a painful reminder. I really need to get out of New York. I'm sure you understand..."

"Yeah, Alice said you would say that," he replied with a smirk. "How about this instead: you pack up your things, and you and I drive back to Montana together. Jasper's heading to Cleveland to meet up with us there and ride the rest of the way. I'm guessing you could use some quality guy time about now. Besides, it'll be a lot more fun than going by yourself. So, what do you think?"

"I... I don't know what to say. The two of you would really do that? For me?"

Edward put a hand on my shoulder, smiling with his eyes. "That's what friends do – we help each other out in the rough times. C'mon, let's get your stuff packed and get on the road."

I pulled my things together, loading them into the relatively small trunk of my car, and we were on the road by late afternoon. The cloud cover Harriet had so graciously provided was thinning considerably by the time we left Manhattan, and before we were halfway through Pennsylvania, the sun was peeking through in random, rogue bursts that threatened to expose us. We briefly considered pulling over until nightfall, but we didn't want to keep Jasper waiting that long, so we veered off onto some lesser-traveled country roads and made our way westward through the picturesque countryside.

Conversation was fun and easy for the first couple of hours, but then the inevitable happened. Edward brought up Coraline, and instantly, I was depressed again.

"So, Grant... while we were at the game, I heard some things – some thoughts," he began cautiously. "I know you don't want to talk about it – about Coraline – but there's something you need to know."

I sighed. There was no escaping the topic – I had to face it sooner or later.

"Okay. What?"

"She's not indifferent to you, not at all. She's just scared."

"Scared? Of what?"

"She's afraid of hurting you, afraid of committing when the two of you could never be together."

"But we_ can _be together," I countered, speaking to Edward as though somehow he was the one I was trying to convince. "I'm perfectly safe in my anonymity, and she only has forty-one more years in her sentence. It's only a matter of time..."

"That's not how she sees it, Grant – that's what I'm trying to tell you. In her mind, you're the forbidden fruit, the grass on the other side of the fence. She's tormented by wanting something she can't have, and she's trying to keep you distant so you don't have to feel the same way."

"But I _do_ feel the same way! For heaven's sake – I love her! I love her, and I can never be with her. That doesn't mean I love her any less, though. It doesn't mean I don't want to cherish every stolen moment together that I can."

"You have to understand, she's keeping you at arm's length because she cares about you."

"Well, that's just stupid."

"Not to her. At least _try_ to see things from her perspective..."

"And why are you so interested in defending her cause all of a sudden?"

"Because I know how she's acting is tearing you apart, and I want to help you understand. She's doing the only thing she knows to do. Listen – if you don't hear anything else I have to say, at least hear this: she cares about you, she just doesn't know how to show you. Give it more time."

We both went quiet for a while as I digested everything he told me. As backwards as it sounded to me, Coraline's behavior did make sense in light of Edward's explanation. It didn't make me miss her any less, though.

Eventually, we found other, less emotionally-charged subjects to talk about, and by the time we arrived in Cleveland to pick up Jasper, I was in a much better mood. My Corvette was really only designed for two passengers, but the three of us found a way to squeeze in, and we had a terrific ride in spite of it. We took a break for half a day in Chicago to enjoy the city life there and watch game five of the World Series at a local sports bar. The three of us chatted, laughed and joked about randomness the whole time – there was never even a mention of Coraline, which was a good tonic for me.

After the game, we crammed back into the car and passed through Minneapolis and Fargo, North Dakota before we came to the more remote stretch of the drive. Once we got into Montana, the two of them were practically salivating, talking about all the endless acres of national forests that were overflowing with wild game. After a couple hours of pleading, they wore me down, and we took a sizable detour, heading south into northern Idaho. The three of us spent a day and a half roaming an 8 million-acre national forest area, and hunting bear and mountain lions. The Cullens were professionals at hunting large game, and after a few tips, I was able to subdue a rather large grizzly. It was quite a rush, taking on a creature of that size face to face, and though the blood had a strange flavor, I did enjoy the warmth and freshness of it.

The three of us arrived in Whitefish after a four-day return trip, one I enjoyed much more than I would have returning on my own. I invited Jasper and Edward to stay at my house for a while, but they had plans to visit our mutual friend, Robert Slape, in Seattle. Mr. Slape, an associate of Hawkins and his gang, was our inside connection for the counterfeited documents necessary to live in the United States.

The Cullens had been in Syracuse for too long, and they were planning a family relocation to Alaska – something that required new drivers licenses, birth certificates, passports... the whole bit. I thought about it as I bid them farewell – my family and I had been living in Whitefish for nearly 8 years, and we didn't look a day older than we did when we arrived. It would probably be time for us to start thinking about relocating to a new town ourselves. As it turned out, a relocation was coming sooner than I expected.

I returned to my house to find it empty. Harvey's motorcycle was missing from the motor house, and the front door was locked, so I assumed he and Lucy must have been out for a scenic drive (as they often were in the fall). I had called ahead from Chicago, alerting them to my change of plans on the way home, and had expected them to be in town to welcome me back, but I didn't think too much of it at the time. The fall colors were just beginning to show in Whitefish, and the October air was cold and crisp. If I had a motorcycle, I'd probably be on it, too.

My next stop was at the mortuary, and that's where the full picture began to come into view. The mailbox was nearly full, stuffed with business letters and invoices, which was odd, since we didn't usually receive a high volume of mail content in a single day. In front of the back door (which was my usual entrance) was a half-wilted floral arrangement, the type that we received on a regular basis. The delivery date on the card was for four days earlier, which would explain the poor condition of the flowers. What it didn't explain is why Harvey and Lucy didn't bring the arrangement inside. Worry and wrath were vying for emotional supremacy inside me as I walked around to check the front door, and found – as no surprise – three separate notes attached, each requesting a call back for pick up and embalming service.

It was obvious that Harvey and Lucy hadn't been to the office in several days. Either they were grossly neglecting it, or something terrible had happened to them. Needless to say, I was quite unhappy about either possibility. I hurried back to the house and called Alice to ask if she had seen anything disturbing in their futures, and she had nothing. I fought to keep a clear head, and decided to assume they were just being irresponsible. I would give them to the end of the day to return before I allowed myself to think about something horrible like them being found by the Volturi.

I waited impatiently at the house for six hours before the the familiar roar of Harvey's red Harley Davidson came thundering down the driveway.

They were alive.

I was going to kill them.

As soon as they were in the door, I unloaded on them, allowing my emotions to get the best of me. Even with Edward and Jasper's diversions, it had been a pretty emotionally taxing week, and there was just no self-control left.

"Where in the bloody hell have you been?" I demanded, cold and deliberate. I could see the shock in their eyes – they weren't expecting me to be back in town yet. Lucy had guilt written all over her face, which was just as well. I could more easily forgive her. Harvey was my own brother. He should have known better.

"It's good to see you, too," was his nonchalant reply.

I went from angry to furious.

"Have you any idea how much trouble you've caused? We're past due on the electricity bill, we're going to have to refund a thirty-dollar floral arrangement that never made it to the Wilson's funeral, and we've lost at least a half a dozen jobs, all because you two were off gallivanting around on that stupid motorcycle."

"Geez, sorry. If it's such a big deal, I'll pay you back."

"Harvey, I asked you to do _one thing _while I was gone. One simple thing. Could you not even handle that?"

"Yeah, one thing – to spend all day long working at the business _you_ wanted to keep so you could have some one night stand with your Volturi girlfriend. Oh – and on absolutely no notice whatsoever. Forgive me for not bending over backwards to grant that request."

"That business is the only way that this family survives, and you'd do well to remember that. After all the things I've done for you, the least you could do was give me one ounce of respect, suck it up, and actually do some work for once."

"So now I'm a slacker?" He retorted, becoming as angry as I was. "I do my share, just like Lucy does, just like you do. What makes you so high-and-mighty?"

"I hold this family together," I half-shouted in response, ready to pop him one in the jaw, "_I'm_ the one who has to make all the tough decisions. _I'm_ the one who puts in the extra hours. I'm the one who actually behaves like a responsible adult."

"You've got your head stuck so far up your own ass that you don't even know what's good for this family anymore. All you care about is that stupid mortuary and your stupid girlfriend. Get over it, man. Wally's dead. Coraline might as well be. It's time you started caring about the people in your life that are actually here."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"We hate it here."

There was a long pause as his words sat in the air. The dynamic level came down a bit, but it was still as serious as ever.

"Can't you see that?" He continued, looking over at Lucy. "Luce and I, we're not cut out for the small town life. We're bored to death here. That's where we've been. We spent the last three days in Seattle, and we loved it. I didn't want to come back. We've gotta get out of here, we're going crazy."

"Lucy?" I asked, hoping she might have less intense feelings on the matter.

"Harvey's right," she said, eyes on the ground. "We love you, we just... we don't fit in here. We thought we could make it work, but we're tired of trying. I'm sorry about the office..."

"Guys, I... I had no idea. Well, okay, so I may have had an _idea_, but honestly... I didn't know your feelings were this strong."

"I know, Grant," Harvey said, stepping forward and patting me on the shoulder. "I love you, man, but you've been a little messed up since Wally died. I know you miss him, and I know you miss Coraline. I know they were like family, and I'm not trying to belittle that, but you need to remember, we're your family, too."

He stepped back slightly and took Lucy's hand.

"Lucy and I have decided that we're moving by the first of the year, probably to Seattle. I hope you'll come with us. You could really use a fresh start."

"I'll... give it some thought..."

"Good," he answered. "... and sorry about what I said – about Coraline. I got a little carried away..."

"Don't mention it. Like you said, we're family."

Harvey's announcement hit me like an asteroid – sudden, unexpected, crushing. I dwelt on the subject heavily for several days, and ultimately came to see that he was right. I had been so busy mourning the relationships missing in my life that I had neglected the ones present in my life, nearly to the point of losing them. I had to do something. It wasn't the moving itself that bothered me – I had been thinking of relocating for a while – it was the realization that my brother and his wife had been suffering in silence for so long. Part of me wondered if a change of scenery would really solve the problem, or if the issue was with me. There was only one way to find out, and it was something that needed to be done anyway.

We were moving.

I put the business and the house up for sale, and began diverting my attention from undertaking to investigating our next living place. Seattle was the obvious front-runner in Harvey's mind, but I had lived there as a human twenty years earlier, and knowing my luck, someone would recognize me (after all, I didn't really look any different). The last thing we wanted was to get settled into a new town, only to turn around and leave to escape suspicion, so Harvey and Lucy reluctantly agreed to look elsewhere, at least until our next relocation.

With Seattle off the table, the entire world was at our disposal. Our previous research (from when we left Havana) was primarily focused on small towns, so we launched a thorough investigative initiative, and came up with several viable options. We considered Portland, Vancouver, London, Glasgow, Lima, and Stockholm, among others. Harvey and I weren't quite ready to try living in the UK again, and I was the only one who spoke Spanish or Swedish, so we ended up selecting Portland as our next home.

Well, not technically Portland.

Harvey and Lucy wanted to rent a flat in the middle of downtown. I was still nervous enough about sunny days to want the privacy that a more secluded location could provide. After a few heated discussions, we struck a compromise. We bought an 18-acre plot of heavily forested land backed up next to Mount Hood National Forest, and had a nice two-story house built there. The lot was perfectly secluded, but only 20 miles from the very center of Portland, which, in my mind, afforded us the best of both worlds. In addition to the house, Harvey and Lucy rented out a 14th-story flat near the riverfront, so on any given day, they had their choice of where to stay.

The moving transition went relatively easily, and by the end of January 1957, we were settled in and making the most of the opportunities a larger city provided. Due to the timing of the second world war, Lucy had never been able to attend college, and a move to a new town was the perfect time to change that. At my suggestion, she started taking classes at the local university in the spring semester, working toward her medical degree, which, given her caring heart and concern for the welfare of others, was a great choice.

Between her total-recall memory, her ability to read textbooks several times the speed of a human, and expert tutoring from her knowledgeable brother-in-law, college proved easy for Lucy. She took as many night classes as possible, enrolling in more classes simultaneously than even a studious human would attempt, and graduated with straight A's in the spring of 1959.

Lucy enjoyed her undergraduate program so thoroughly that she immediately enrolled in the University of Oregon's medical school, working toward a specialization in pediatrics. Fortunately, they had a campus in Portland, so we were able to keep the family planted there for a reasonable amount of time. The academic scene was good for Lucy – it allowed her to make friends her age and have something to do with the mountain of free time on her hands. Considering how much she enjoyed and benefited from her education, I was hoping Harvey would take a similar course. As usual, though, Harvey had his own ideas on the subject.

For all the pleading and persuading that Harvey did to get us to move to a larger city, he was the one who spent the least amount of time there. About six months after we changed locations, he was contacted by our old mutual friend, Hawkins. Three weeks later, he was working as a black-ops agent with British special intelligence.

At first, I was strongly opposed to the idea – part of the reason we had left Havana in the first place was to get away from the killing business. Harvey assured me that the majority of his assignments were information-gathering only. He did receive orders to kill from time to time, though, which usually presented a problem. On two different occasions, he lost control after eliminating his target, and fed on the body. Both times, Lucy and I took him through ten weeks of blood-rehab before letting him get back out for another mission.

In his defense, Harvey was only out on assignments 4-5 days a month. The rest of the time he spent enjoying the city life and riding his motorcycle all over the western United States. He and Lucy traveled frequently, roaming as far north as Alaska and as far south as San Diego. Admittedly, I was mildly jealous. I would have given anything to have been able to travel that freely and frequently with Coraline. It was just as well, though. I had plenty to keep me busy in town.

As was the case in Whitefish, a large portion of my time went into the undertaking business. I purchased a somewhat successful mortuary on the east side of the city, and went about renovating it to suit the family's unique needs. After about a year of doing things myself, I finally took a chance and hired a few employees to run the basic tasks during the day. Hiring help turned out to be a wonderful idea – the business grew rapidly, and without much effort on my part, it became profitable.

Not that I needed the money.

Even with the cost of relocating, the family funds were extensive. My years of lucrative assassin work in Havana, along with my ownership of a reasonably-large Swiss bank, had provided me with a sizable monetary stockpile, which only grew larger as I reinvested in domestic and foreign stocks and businesses. By 1960, the family had a net worth of over $6 million, and it actually became a little bit challenging to responsibly dispense all that income. Since I wasn't an official citizen, I felt no need to pay income tax, or anything of that nature. I did, however, feel the need to give back to help those less fortunate than myself. With Harvey and Lucy's help (well, mostly Lucy's, to be honest), I selected a variety of charities to invest in – everything from feeding the hungry in Africa, to providing low-income housing in urban Portland, to donating heavily in Lucy's church (yes, she still went regularly, even without Wally and her old congregation in Whitefish). In time, the mortuary, investments, and even the charities were running smoothly with minimal input from me, which gave me the opportunity to explore other areas of interest that I had been keeping on the shelf for some time – namely, science.

Lucy's interest in furthering her education was an inspiration to me. With all the free time on my hands, I decided to join her, pursuing and attaining a position as an adjunct faculty member at the school. It was the perfect scenario for me – I taught three freshman-level physics classes and a chemistry lab every semester, and in return (besides a modest salary), I had unlimited access to the university's library and laboratories.

It was rather odd at first – going back to the last job I had held as a human – but in time, I regained my old form and remembered how much I loved academia. My lectures as a vampire went over much better than they had as a human. For one thing, I didn't have to keep any notes in front of me, or struggle to remember my lesson plan. Everything was neatly organized and to-the-point. I also had the advantage of being able to hear every whispered comment and catch every passed-along note. By the end of my first year teaching, I became notorious on campus as being the "A-student" professor. I had very little tolerance for chatty students, and would expel them from my classroom on a regular basis. As a result, my classes were always on the small side, but they were filled with attentive students, which is the way I preferred it.

A lot had changed in the world of science and technology since I last stepped onto a university campus in 1935, and I made it my goal to stay abridged on everything new. I spent countless hours in the library after it had officially closed, reading through the latest research journals and textbooks, and before my second full semester was over, I was (in my own humble opinion) fully qualified to teach graduate-level classes in nearly any branch of physics, chemistry and biology. At the time, though, I was happy enough with my freshman-level classes – it was just nice to be back on campus.

Everything Harvey had said to me about living in the here-and-now hit home, and after the move, I made a concerted effort to spend more time doing things with my brother and sister-in-law. We played games, watched television, and went on trips as a family. I tutored Lucy in all her science classes, taught her to speak Spanish and French, and even went to church with her on Easter and Christmas. I taught Harvey how to fly a plane, and we bought a pair of matching aircraft to race. Actually, we bought six – one for me, one for Harvey, and then four replacements for the ones Harvey crashed into the ocean. In return, he taught me the finer points of riding motorcycles, and of course, we raced those, too. We actually raced just about anything that would move faster than we could run.

In addition to competitive activities, Harvey and I also shared a growing love for sports, and made an effort to attend any major sporting events in person. We had front row seats at every NFL Championship game, World Series game and college football Rose Bowl, and during the regular season, we watched as many televised games as possible.

My relationship with Harvey was never one that would be characterized by deep conversations – at least, not to the casual observer – but we did share a lot in those first few years in Portland, and we came to a better understanding with the whole "Coraline" issue. I understood that his objections to her were based entirely on his desire to protect me from physical and emotional harm. He understood that unless she told me outright that she had absolutely no interest in me whatsoever, I would continue to write her and hold out hope that we could be together someday. It was a tenuous truce, but at least we had peace.

After our time together in New York, Coraline and I resumed our correspondence, keeping a steady stream of letters going back and forth across the Atlantic. Her work slowed down a bit once the primary talent scout, Pearl, was back in control of her senses, but she still managed to write me every 8-10 weeks. Every once in a while, she would send me a postcard from one of her exotic places of travel – I collected them all and kept them, along with the letters, in a special box for keepsakes. Every word, every thought from her was precious to me – I could never get enough of them.

We talked about all sorts of things in our letters, but never about the status of our relationship. I would have pressed the issue, but I was comfortable enough keeping the status quo – that, and I was afraid of upsetting the apple cart. My friendship with Coraline was a strange, unconventional one, but it was still a friendship. After all the two of us had been through over the years, it was a wonder that we were even alive, let alone in contact with each other.

Everything progressed in my life quite naturally for my first five years in Portland. And then in March of 1962, I got another special letter. Coraline, along with Wesley and Harriet, had somehow convinced Piers (who was now the one they directly reported to) that they deserved some vacation time for all their hard work. They had plans to be in Venezuela for business in June, and arranged for an extra three days there, completely free of responsibility. In addition to inviting me, they also extended an invitation to Harvey and Lucy, which would make it less of a "romantic getaway" and more of a "family vacation." Considering the status of my relationship with Coraline, it seemed the most logical (if not the most desirable) course of action, so I heartily supported it.

Much to my delight, Harvey and Lucy thought it was a great idea, so we decided to make an extended family trip of it. First, we would fly down to Peru and spend a week sight-seeing in the Andes mountains. Next, we would rent a boat and take a 9-day journey down the Amazon river in Brazil. Finally, we would end up in Caracas, where we would meet up with Coraline, Wesley and Harriet for an extended weekend. It was the perfect vacation – I just hoped that the time with Coraline would prove more natural and confusion-free than our time in New York.


	7. Chapter 7

7. COUPLES RETREAT

"Lucy, if we don't leave in the next ten minutes, we will literally miss our flight. We have to go _now_."

Harvey was running out of patience – he had been pacing in the foyer, bags packed, for just short of an hour.

He was ready for a vacation.

Lucy was ready too, she just moved at her own pace. After checking his watch for the thousandth time, Harvey turned and headed upstairs, eyes rolling as he went. I just remained seated in my recliner, pretending to read the newspaper as I listened in on their conversation. I have to admit, it was rather entertaining.

"Good god, woman! Have you any awareness of time at all?"

It sounded like Lucy still had a bit more packing to do.

"I'm almost done, Harvey. Go back downstairs, and I'll be down there in a minute." Lucy was surprisingly calm, especially in light of Harvey's intensity, but I could detect a hint of irritation in her voice.

"Love, you've been 'almost done' for an hour. Do you need me to help you with something? Seriously, we have to go."

"No, I have everything organized just the way I want it. Let me finish. I'll be down there in five minutes."

"Lucy, I've seen plane wrecks more organized than this."

"You're only making it take longer," she countered, "and I wasn't talking about the room, I was talking about my suitcases. We can clean the room when we get back."

"Wait – 'suitcases?' You're bringing more than one?"

"Well, of course I am! We're going to be gone for three weeks – what do you expect me to do, wear the same outfit every day?"

"How many outfits do you need? We're going through the _jungle_, Luce. In a small boat. Nobody out there will even see you."

"That's not the point," she replied, a little more irritated now. "It doesn't matter where we go, I want to look nice."

"For who – the parrots?"

"You never know when you might run into someone."

"I give up. I'm going back downstairs where it's sane."

There was no winning that conversation. Lucy would be ready when she was ready, and if we missed the flight, we'd just catch the next one. It wasn't as if the money was a problem.

"You still want a wife?" Harvey asked as he stepped back into the foyer, a small hint of a humorous smile sneaking through his irritated exterior.

"More than ever," I answered, going against the grain just to annoy him.

Of course, it was also the truth.

"I'm just not as lucky in love as you, Harv," I continued.

"O believe me, you're the lucky one," he replied with a smirk and an eye roll.

"I heard that!" Lucy shouted from upstairs. "I hope you don't mind staying in your own room on vacation, cause you're sure not staying in mine."

I couldn't help chuckling. It was going to be a very interesting three weeks.

Despite the delays, we actually made it to the airport in time (barely), and after a connection in Los Angeles, we were on our way over the ocean to Peru. Harvey and Lucy made up on the flight, and by the time we landed in Lima, they were back to their usual, semi-honeymooner selves. It was always hot or cold with those two – they fought intensely and loved even more intensely. I don't think I could have handled that much relational energy, but it seemed to work for them.

Once we arrived at the airport, we were greeted by our Peruvian friends (the same couple we had stayed with after leaving Havana), who were to be our tour guides-of-sorts during our stay in the country. They were humans, and while they didn't understand the full nature of our vampire condition, they knew there was something different about us, and that it was in their best interest to stay as ignorant of that difference as possible. The week in Peru was quite enjoyable – at least, to me. We trekked through the jungle exploring ancient ruins, swam in frigid, crystal-clear mountain lakes, and skied on brilliant white mountaintops out of the range of the local human population. All in all, it was a very relaxing, adventurous seven days.

Our local friends arranged for us to have access to a few recently-deceased blood donors in Lima before we left, and after thanking them sincerely, we set out for Iquitos, a large port city on the Amazon river. We rented out a six-passenger riverboat with plenty of room for the three of us, and set out down the river, weaving our way through some of the most remote jungle-wilderness in the world.

Travel itself was relatively slow – we were on the river only at night, in order to avoid potential run-ins with other boats traveling our way. During the days, we would venture out into the dense rain-forest around us, exploring the remarkable flora and fauna, and occasionally encountering some interesting wildlife specimens. On our fourth day-trip, Harvey got into a bit of a wrestling match with a 21-foot-long anaconda, which completely repulsed Lucy, but made for some very nice action photographs. I actually took so many pictures during the first part of our family vacation that I had to buy more film once we reached our river destination of Manaus, Brazil.

It took us all of 9 days to make the 1,000-mile journey, and by the time we arrived in Manaus, we were all ready to be back in civilization. We rented a small single-propeller plane and flew it across the Guiana Highlands and into Caracas, arriving there just a few hours after Coraline, Wesley and Harriet. I was so excited to see them that I actually got pulled over for a speeding ticket heading from the airport to the hotel where we were all meeting. It wasn't enough to dampen my spirits, though. I had been waiting for six years to see Coraline again. There was little on earth that could have inhibited my enthusiasm that day.

Harriet was in charge of lodging, so it came as no surprise that our base of operations for the weekend was the entire top floor of "Hotel de Santiago," a brand-new oceanfront luxury resort about fifteen miles from Caracas. It was about 4:30pm local time when we arrived at the hotel, and even in the dense cloud cover, its radiant glass-filled white walls glistened like a diamond in the sand. On one side of the hotel was a private beach leading to the crystal-clear water of the southern Caribbean Sea. On the other side, a 9,000-foot-tall mountain range provided a lush green backdrop, shutting out the rest of the world. It was as ideal a location as one could hope for.

Before we even pulled the car to a stop, I saw her – Coraline was waiting for my (well, _our_) arrival, standing by the large glass doors of the hotel's entryway. She was dressed much differently than she was the last time I had seen her – more casually. She wore a simple white linen sundress – sleeveless, with little string-like straps tied neatly above her shoulders. The skirt portion of the dress extended to just above her knees, flaring out slightly so that light-blue-embroidered trim danced mildly in the ocean breeze, which also tousled the uninhibited red curls of her always-captivating hair. The iridescent sheen of her perfectly-sculpted extremities (visible only to vampire eyes), reflected just enough light to come across with a pearl-like luster. I wasn't accustomed to seeing that much of her skin, and I liked it.

Her mouth curved into a delightful smile as she watched us pull the rental car around the circle drive and park right in front of her. I stepped out of the car and slowly walked around to her – she said nothing, just standing there, perfectly shaped in every way, like a living Botticelli painting.

I took her hands, looking into her angelic face, which was even more stunning up close.

"Hi," she said simply, tilting her head ever-so-slightly.

"Hi," I responded, grinning involuntarily. She was really here.

Given the romantic sterility our relationship had been operating under for the last few years, I was content to leave things at "Hi." To my pleasant surprise, she wasn't. She pulled me in, wrapping her arms around me and burying her head in my neck. A thousand thoughts rushed through my head in an instant, most of which I immediately threw out. I was done trying to read between the lines with her – a hug was just a hug. It's something that good friends do. I breathed in slowly through my nose, taking in that familiar, intoxicating aroma of her hair like a drug.

"You smell fantastic," I said rather softly. "I really miss that."

"I was just thinking the same thing," she replied, drawing in a deep breath before releasing me to arm's length again.

"It's good to see you again, Grant."

"It's good to see you, too."

Our poetic reunion probably would have gone on much longer, had it not been for my desperately annoying brother clearing his throat demonstratively.

_Ugh! Brothers..._

"Hi. You must be Coraline," he said, extending his hand to shake hers as I stepped aside, annoyed, but radiant nonetheless. Harvey and Lucy had actually met Coraline before – as humans – but as was the case with most of their pre-conversion memories, their recollection of the event was foggy at best.

"Yes, it's nice to see you again, Harvey," she answered, shaking his hand politely. "And Lucy, wow – vampirism suits you very well," she said next, greeting my sister-in-law with another handshake as she stepped forward to join the rest of us. "Grant's told me so much about you two – since your conversion. It's nice to see the 'new you' in person."

"Yeah, we've heard a lot about you, too," Harvey replied, first to her, then turning to me. "You know, Grant, she's not half as bad looking as you said. Heck, I'll bet she doesn't belch mid-sentence and pick wedgies either." He winked and grinned, slapping me on the shoulder. "Nice to meet you... uh, again, Coraline."

_Thanks for completely destroying the moment, Harv. You're the best._

We parked the car, grabbed our luggage, and followed Coraline as she showed us to our private floor at the top of

the hotel. We had more introductions as Wesley and Harriet

greeted everyone, and then settled into our suites. The hotel had nine large luxury suites on the top floor – eight two-bedroom units that would have been huge by any other hotel standard, and the presidential suite – an expansive, 1,300-square-foot living area. We would use the presidential suite for any group activities, while each couple got their own suite on the floor. Except for me and Coraline, of course. Our rooms were on opposite ends of the hall.

Of course.

It was after 5pm by the time we were finished with introductions, and Harriet was eager to get out and do some shopping with the girls before the shops in Caracas started to close. The three of them were out the door in a hurry, which left us bachelors to entertain ourselves. After bogging down for a while trying to come to a group decision, Wesley mentioned that we had a rented airplane at our disposal. Harvey and I had the same idea simultaneously.

Joyride.

We all drove back to the airport, and in no time we were airborne, taking in the beautiful countryside from a whole new perspective. Of course, we weren't up there to go sightseeing. The plane was a medium-sized dual-propeller type – an eight-seater. It wasn't the prototypical vehicle for aerial gymnastics, but then, I wasn't your typical pilot. We spent an hour and a half doing nose dives, barrel rolls, and all sorts of other invigorating stunts until Harvey asked Wesley what sort of record player they had in the presidential suite, to which Wesley replied, "I... don't think we have one."

Emergency. Stop the presses. Team Bachelor suddenly had a new mission.

For all the grief Harvey had given Lucy about bringing two pieces of luggage on the trip, his one suitcase easily outweighed both of hers combined. Of course, that was because the majority of the bag was filled with records. Harvey was a connoisseur of all the latest popular music, and according to him, it was impossible to have a decent party without it. We landed the plane as soon as possible, and headed into the city, hoping to find a retail establishment still open at 7pm that sold appropriate turntables. After a bit of searching, we finally found one suitable for our needs, and though it was exorbitantly overpriced, we purchased it without hesitation, carrying our prize back to the car like conquering heroes returning with the spoils of war. To our surprise, we actually ran into the girls on the way out of the shopping center. They were carrying plenty of their own spoils.

"Hey boys," Harriet said as we approached, a teasing tone in her voice. "Run out of 'guy' stuff already? If you're trying to crash our shopping party, it won't work. We're having too much fun without you."

"I can see that," Wesley replied, eying the enormous shopping bags in her arms. "Actually, we're just here to get some... party supplies. We're on our way back to the hotel to do lots more 'guy' stuff."

"Oh, that's great," Lucy interjected, handing her load of shopping bags to Harvey. "You boys can take this stuff back to the hotel for us so we can keep shopping. Thanks a lot!"

"Luce, how do you expect to bring all this home?" Harvey asked, skeptical, but already defeated.

"You and Grant only brought one suitcase each, and the airline allows two per passenger. So, the way I see it, I've got room for two more extra large suitcases-worth."

She winked. Harvey rolled his eyes.

"Are these clothes really that much better than the ones at home?"

"They're different, and I like different. Besides, these two girls are great to shop with – I've found so much cute stuff that I probably never would have even tried on if I was shopping by myself."

"Great," he replied. "Well, don't get too carried away – we're about three shopping bags away from having to buy a cargo plane to fly home in."

We left the girls to continue their shopping, which they advised us would last until the stores closed at 9. Having Harriet and Lucy in the same city had created the perfect storm of fashion shopping. The stores would have to restock their shelves before they could reopen for business. Coraline seemed content enough to tag along and get some girl time, though I could tell she hadn't bought nearly as much as the other two – shopping never was her thing. She was more fashionable now than she had been back in Belgium, but underneath, she was still the same Coraline – which was a relief. There was still hope that the rest of her tastes had remained intact over the years.

Once we got back to the hotel, we tried out the record player, which, according to Harvey, was "adequate," and proceeded to play an hour and a half of poker, complete with green visors and cigars. The game was surprisingly well-matched – Wesley had the most experience, Harvey had his insight into our strengths and weaknesses, and I had card-counting and probability (along with a heavy dose of luck). I eventually lost out, and the other two remained in a virtual stalemate until the girls returned (which was, for all intents and purposes, the end of the night's poker window).

As usual, the first thing the girls wanted to do when they came in (arms full of bags again) was to model every single garment for us so we could see how "cute" they looked. Given the quantity of clothing purchased, Wesley and Harvey were able to negotiate the ladies down from a full fashion show to a half-hour highlight segment, which still would have been terribly dull, had it not been for Coraline. I saw four different outfits on her, and somehow, she managed to look equally stunning in every one.

Once the girls were finished showing off their purchases, it was game time. Wesley and Harriet brought a slew of board games along with them, and at Harriet's request (or, more like insistence), we began with Monopoly. Playing the game with six people certainly mixed things up a bit. Wesley wasn't the only swindler in the group now – he had to battle with Harvey for the rights to buy Harriet out of her property. Coraline protested the uneven trades, as usual, and Lucy and I just went along with the flow, doing our best to keep up with the front-runners. After two and a half hours of play, the only two remaining players were (big surprise) Harvey and Wesley. Wesley seemed to have the advantage first, with hotels on both Boardwalk and Park Place. Harvey had the entire corner of yellow and green properties, though, and in the end, he came out victorious. The winner got to choose the next game, and since the winner was married, he chose "Scrabble," a word game.

Normally, Scrabble was only meant for four players, but we stretched it to include six. The tables were turned this time – Lucy and Coraline were the clear favorites to win. As for the rest of us, Wesley was sulking after losing at Monopoly, and hardly put forth any effort, Harriet was about 50/50 on using words that were actually included in the Oxford Dictionary, Harvey got too bored and started making nonsensical words (mostly to tease his wife), and me – well, I could never seem to come up with a good word with 'K,' 'Q,' 'F,' 'F,' 'V' and 'O.' I probably set a new world record for most consecutive "pass" turns, though. It wasn't until the end of the game that Lucy told me I could turn in my letter tiles for alternates from the bag, and by that time, I was hopelessly behind. The game ended with a close finish, but it was Coraline who had the upper hand. Lucy was a much more gracious loser than Wesley, who was still pouting, and since Coraline wanted group involvement, she chose Wesley's favorite game next: Risk.

Now, Monopoly had far too much luck involved in it, and words had never been my strong suit, but "Risk" was all about strategy, and_ that_ I could relate to. We decided to play as couples to make things more interesting, which meant I got to be on a team with Coraline. I was so distracted by the elation of the two of us being considered a couple that I nearly lost my competitive edge. Nearly. The game was extremely close for most of the way, but eventually we pulled ahead, and for once, I got to win at something. Compounded by the joy of doing something with Coraline involving teamwork, I was on cloud nine. Wesley still wasn't happy about losing, but he seemed to take it a little better this time, mostly because Harriet was hanging on his arm, soothing him like a horse whisperer. Since Coraline had already chosen a group activity, the honor fell to me, and I chose something in a completely different vein.

Dancing.

As soon as I said the word, Harvey's face lit up. He was the type of person who rarely did anything without some type of music playing, either in the background or the foreground, and he had been waiting all night long for an excuse to use the record player he bought in Caracas. While the rest of us cleaned up the board games, Harvey turned on the record player and gently placed an album from his suitcase on top, easing the needle down with all the attention of a spinal surgeon. A moment later, we were treated to the iconic first few bars of "Jailhouse Rock." replicated with a decent degree of fidelity by the small attached speaker. As soon as the music started, Harvey turned around with a big grin, as if he was expecting applause. The response he got instead was somewhat less enthusiastic.

"What is _that_?" Coraline asked once the song reached the chorus, her face contorting as if she'd just sniffed a bottle of spoiled milk.

Harvey paused for a moment before chuckling.

"Ha, that's a good one."

She wasn't joking. He figured that out promptly.

"Wait – are you serious? This is 'Jailhouse Rock.' You know, _Elvis_? I guess it _is_ a little older, but still..."

"Elvis who?" She asked innocently.

Lucy's jaw hit the floor.

"O. My. God. You cannot possibly be serious."

This was bad. Very bad. Foolish or not, I still held onto a hope that Coraline might someday be part of my family, and this visit – Harvey and Lucy's first real impression of her – was vital to our future familial chemistry. I started to panic. Lucy was a huge Elvis fan. Huge. She had seen him in concert twelve times, traveling as far east as Chicago. She had met him twice, and had at least four different pieces of autographed memorabilia, including a limited-edition copy of his first radio single. Telling Lucy you'd never heard of Elvis was like telling the pope you'd never heard of God. It was unthinkable. Unforgivable. I kept a straight face, but my brain was racing underneath the surface, looking for a swift way to change the topic of conversation. And then Lucy continued talking.

"You poor thing! I knew they kept you in a bubble over there, but I didn't realize it was this bad."

_What? Pity? Yes! Yes, pity her! Good girl, Lucy. Pity is good._

"You've never even _heard of _Elvis Presley?" She continued, motioning to Harvey to turn down the music a little so she could talk more easily.

"No, but I'm guessing I should have..." Coraline answered, all eyes on her.

Lucy lit up at the opportunity to describe him. "Elvis is the greatest performer the western world has ever seen – he can sing, he can dance, he can act, and of course, he's a total hunk. I've seen him live twelve times, and trust me, this record player doesn't even begin to do him justice. He's the most popular, most talented, most absolutely dreamy man on the face of the earth! Well, outside of Harvey, of course. But Elvis, he's great. You should try and see him perform live sometime, I hear he's thinking about doing concerts in Europe."

"Are all his songs like this?"

"Oh, no. Elvis is multi-talented. He sings ballads that'll practically whisk you right up to heaven."

"What's wrong – don't you like rock 'n roll?" Harvey interjected. I couldn't tell if he was teasing or serious.

"Well, to be perfectly honest..." she started.

_Don't. Don't be honest. Say you love it._

"It's... just so... noisy."

"Noisy?" Harvey asked, eyebrows raised.

"It's not necessarily a bad thing, but it's so brash and clangy. And besides that, the entire chordal structure of the song is what – three chords? Don't you get tired of listening to the same progressions over and over?"

"Nope. I could listen to this stuff all night," Harvey answered with a wide grin, as he turned the volume back up and began bobbing his head to the beat.

"So, if you don't like rock 'n roll, what sort of music do you like?" Lucy asked.

"The classics, mostly. Mozart's chamber music, for starters. And Puccini – especially adaptations for violin. I've done several myself. And then, of course, anything by Brahms – he's my personal favorite."

"Okay... well, I remember Mozart, I think," Lucy responded, trying her best to be accepting. "Didn't he go crazy and cut off his ear?"

"No, you're probably thinking of Vincent van Gogh."

"Oh, yeah, van Gogh. He's good, I like his music. And Mozart's, of course."

I looked down to hide the laughter that was on the verge of bursting out of my mouth. It would have worked if I hadn't looked back up at Coraline. Her eyes caught mine, and I could tell she was holding back the same as I was. The combination of forces was too great to restrain, and we both broke out laughing at poor Lucy. She was trying so very hard, and I was eternally grateful to her for it, but I couldn't help it.

"What? What's so funny?" She asked, though I suspected she knew what the laughter was about.

"Van Gogh was a painter, not a musician" Harriet said, stepping into the conversation. "Don't feel bad, though. I didn't know who any of those guys were until I started going to Cora's concerts in Volterra."

"You never told me about any concerts in Volterra," I said to Coraline, trying to mask the mild irritation I was feeling. Music was a big deal to her – you'd think she would have mentioned it to a close friend like me. I noticed her giving Harriet a look, as if to say "shut up now," but it was too late. The train had already left the station.

"Coraline never mentioned the Concert Series?" Harriet continued. "Well, that's weird – she's pretty much the star of the whole show."

"It's really... not that big a deal," Coraline interjected, trying to downplay the topic. "A few of us get together to put on a little concert. Nothing to write home about..."

"Don't listen to her," Harriet said, still persistent. "She never gives herself enough credit. Ever since the Volterra Orchestra was organized – or, well, I guess, _re_organized – she's been in every single concert."

"They have an orchestra there?" I asked, still wondering why I'd never heard of any of this.

"Yeah. Philippe started it about a year and a half ago."

_Oh. Well, that explains it._

"They're all really good," Harriet continued. "There are about twenty vampires that play regularly, and then some guest human musicians to round out the parts. It's the most popular event on the calendar over there. There hasn't been a regular vampire orchestra since the seventeen-hundreds, so everyone's excited to hear good music again. Even the big three come most of the time."

"I didn't know you played an instrument," Lucy said to Coraline, opening the way for Harriet to brag more on her sister.

"Actually, she plays _two_ instruments – violin and piano. She's the star player on both of them, so she plays one or the other, depending on whether the song is a piano concerto or a violin-led one. She's totally awesome. It's too bad we didn't bring a violin along with us."

"Yeah, I would have enjoyed that," Lucy chimed in. "Believe it or not, I do actually like music other than rock and roll..."

"I believe you," Harriet said. "I wasn't a big classical music fan before, but it grows on you, especially when you've got someone as good as Coraline to listen to."

"So what do_ you_ think of rock 'n roll?" Harvey asked Harriet, taking a break from his head-bobbing to wait for her response.

"I kinda like it," she said with a gradual smile. "It sounds really fun, if that makes sense..."

"Oh yeah, I get you," he replied, bobbing his head again. "Rock 'n roll is all about fun."

"Well, speaking of fun," I said, jumping back into the mix to try and get the evening activities back on track, "we've listened to three songs, and we haven't started dancing yet. I'm afraid we're gonna run out of good material."

"Not to worry," Harvey said with pride, "I brought enough to go all night and into next morning."

"Great," I replied, "then what are we waiting for? Let's dance."

I took a few minutes to teach the basics of swing dance to Wesley, Harriet and Coraline, and we got right into it. Dancing as a vampire was so much more fun that doing it as a human. For one thing, you never get tired, so you can keep up the most energetic dance and pace for hours without ever thinking about taking a break. Add to that the inherent agility and flexibility of the vampire body, and it was easy to see why dancing was a favorite pastime for my family.

We danced for two and a half hours, covering everything from traditional swing dance to Jive and Lindy Hop, and even threw in a few more modern dances like the Twist and the Mashed Potato. Admittedly, I was still partial to the more sophisticated, classic ballroom dances, such as the Waltz and the Polonaise, but the swing dances were a lot of fun, and they offered something for the whole family to do together. Harriet was surprisingly adept at dance, and Wesley kept up with her adequately. Even Coraline, the self-proclaimed dance loser, was able to dive in and have some fun.

One of the best parts of the dancing segment of the evening was being partnered with Coraline. I had forgotten just how intense an energy there was whenever we touched. Even in the context of a goofy, happy-go-lucky jive, there was a powerful, gravity-like force drawing me to her and awakening my spirits like nothing else ever had. If there was any question as to whether my feelings for her had stagnated since our last meeting, they were answered with every shock of electricity that surged through me when we touched. It was fantastic.

After we'd all had our fill of games and dancing for the night, we went up to the roof of the building and enjoyed the scenery for a while – the constant roar of the ocean waves, the lush mountainous ridge nearby, and the simple joy of good company was enough to satisfy me for days on end. Once sunrise started approaching, though, it was time for our next group activity.

Day 2 of the weekend was scheduled to take place in Merida, a smaller city buried in the mountain ranges to the west, and home to the only ski resort in Venezuela. Flights into Merida weren't permitted during nighttime hours, so we waited until the sun was visibly over the horizon before boarding the rental plane and making the trip. Showing off in the plane was a little harder with all six passengers, but I still managed to pull off a few maneuvers on the way, just for fun.

The terrain in Merida was lovely – the sort of place you wish you could have a magic portal to so you could swing by any time you needed relaxation. We hired a pair of taxis to take us to the resort, and within minutes of its opening, we were on the slopes. Skiing wasn't exactly a skill of mine, but having a friend like Wesley and a brother like Harvey, I learned to get by pretty well. The real challenge was trying not to run over the humans that clotted the hillside ski lanes.

The six of us spent the entire first half of the day criss-crossing the mountain, racing downhill, getting air time on a homemade ski jump, and playing a sort of "tag" on skis. By midday, the girls were growing tired of being on skis, so the group decided to split up for the remainder of the afternoon. Harriet and Lucy went back into town to shop for local crafts and clothing. Wesley and Harvey stayed on the slopes, weaving through human skiers like they were slalom poles. Coraline and I were feeling adventurous, so we decided to go exploring and see what was on the other side of the mountain.

The mountain range to the south of our ski slope was just as lovely as the rest of the Merida area, with the advantage of seclusion from the human population. We descended past the timberline, and spent hours running through the dense forest, taking intermittent breaks to enjoy the natural beauty around us, which for me, meant appreciating the natural beauty of Coraline. Conversation was easy, much more so than our weekend in New York. We both knew the status of the relationship, and we were comfortable not talking about it. It was refreshing – not having to worry about romantic tension for a while, just being friends. After all, that's how we (or, well, _I_) fell in love in the first place.

Everyone met back at the plane at 6pm to make the flight to Caracas, and, as expected, Harriet and Lucy had purchased enough merchandise to open a small store. We crammed their new things into the minuscule cargo hold on the plane, and I did my best to get the bloated aircraft off of the ground using the unusually short runway in Merida. With a little extra coercion, I had the plane in the air, and we enjoyed a very picturesque return flight, watching the sun set behind the mountain range to our west.

Once we landed, we headed back to the hotel for a few hours of games and dancing, which were great fun. I must admit, even though I had initially been disappointed by the planned group-nature of the visit, it had actually turned out to be quite nice – sort of like old times. There was little room for thoughts about romance amidst the fun and games with everyone, and that's the way Coraline wanted it. She had been the one to plan out the activities for the weekend, and everything had been carefully orchestrated to keep any interactions between us solidly platonic. With less than twelve hours left in Caracas, I was expecting everything to continue on that course, which was why her next suggestion caught me off guard.


	8. Chapter 8

8. TENSION AND RELEASE

"Wait a minute - by 'we,' do you mean _just you and I _should go swimming? I mean, not that there's anything wrong with that, I just..."

I must have been hearing things wrong. She spoke again to clarify.

"I would like for _just the two of us_ to do some exploring in the ocean. I have a place I'd like you to see. That is, if you'd be alright with that..."

"Absolutely! I didn't bring any swimwear along, though."

"That's alright," she said, walking over to the mountain of shopping bags in the group suite and pulling out a pair of navy blue swim trunks. "I had the shopaholics pick something up for you."

_So she was planning this all along... well, that's a good sign. _

"I'll go get changed right now," I said, trying not to come across too enthusiastically.

She smiled. Apparently the enthusiasm came through just fine.

I zipped over to my room and was changed into the trunks, along with a white and blue floral shirt and flip flops, in a matter of seconds. We were supposed to meet up at the front entrance to the hotel, so I went on down ahead of her, expecting a bit of a wait. After all, in my experience, girls always took longer to get ready for everything, even a relatively low-maintenance girl like Coraline.

I was right – she was still getting ready for our swim time. My brief wait would have felt like an eternity, had it not been for my brother, who took the opportunity to give me something of a pep talk.

"Hey Grant, playing the waiting game?" he asked, casually walking over and leaning against the building next to me.

"It's nothing," I replied nonchalantly. "She'll be down any moment."

"Well, that doesn't leave me a lot of time, then, does it?"

"Time for what?" I asked, a little wary of the direction this seemed to be going. Harvey had a hint of that devious grin he got when he was about to make trouble.

"Okay, I'll just get right to it," he said, his face suddenly turning serious as he stared me in the eyes. "What are you waiting for?"

"I'm not following you, Harv..."

"Kiss her, you dumb fool! What's taking so long?"

"What's taking so long? We're just friends. You know that."

"Yeah, and I'm the bloody king of England. C'mon, Grant, it's obvious. She's into you, and you're... _infatuated_ with her. Why are you trying so hard to fight it? Just do it, and stop making yourself suffer."

I had to do a double-take. This couldn't possibly have been the same brother that was openly critical about my relationship with Coraline, my "Volturi girlfriend." Of all people on the face of the earth, Harvey was one of the last ones I would ever expect to encourage anything positive with her. I was genuinely confused.

"Where is this coming from?" I asked, quite skeptical. "I thought you didn't like her..."

"I _didn't_. But now that I've had the chance to get to know her a little, I think she's swell. Really. Besides, I like the 'you' when she's around a lot better than the 'you' when she's not. Sorry."

"So what – now you just want me to go all in? I'm not sure that's really a good idea..."

"I don't know how you _can't_. I mean, don't take this wrong – it sounds kinda weird coming from me – but she's a real doll, you know? A classy chassis. And she wants you bad. Hell, there's so much sexual tension between you two, Luce and I are gonna have to get it on just to ease things up a bit."

"Okay, Harvey, that's way too much information..."

"Aww, c'mon, lighten up a bit, you old prude – I'm not tellin' you to go make vampire babies. It's just a kiss – how much harm can it do? Seriously, what are you waiting for? You know what you want. Lucky for you, she just happens to want the same thing. Try it – I promise, you'll feel a lot better."

"Harvey, I can't. It's... not right. At least, not the right time."

He didn't understand – he couldn't. I wanted to kiss her again, so very badly, but if I did, it would savagely destroy our romantic armistice, and I just wasn't willing to risk losing what I had. It wasn't ideal by a long shot, but it was something. If things got weird between us again, it could take months, even years to get back to the easy, 'just friends' understanding we currently enjoyed. I wouldn't risk it for something as trivial as a kiss.

We both heard the elevator whir into action, signaling Coraline's pending arrival. Harvey put his hand on my shoulder, giving me one final word before I left with her.

"Don't chicken out, Grant. You've got the same Willoughby blood running through you that I do. Or, well... _used_ to. Anyway, that's not the point. You belong with this girl, kissing, whatever, or not. Be a man and claim her. Okay, that's all I got. Better go before she sees me."

He darted off just moments before she walked out the door, and his advice darted off with him. I loved my brother, but he didn't know what he was talking about. There would be no kissing or "whatever" tonight. I was certain of that much.

Coraline and I left the hotel on foot, dressed in our swimsuits plus the additional garments necessary to go walking around in public. Once we were a safe distance from the hotel, we took off running along the coast for a few minutes and arrived at a small, relatively secluded patch of sand, where we left our street clothes and towels and entered the water. It had been a while since Persephone had introduced me to the ladies 2-piece bathing suit, and the surrounding culture had further desensitized me to the sight of a woman in what was essentially water-resistant undergarments. Still, I had never seen Coraline in so little clothing, and I must say, I was utterly captivated. She was, as always, breathtakingly beautiful, and I probably appreciated that a little more than I should have. I couldn't really help it, though. After all, I only got to see her at all once every few years. I had a lot of time to save up for.

I followed her into the water, as she led me out past the shallow swimming area to a huge coral reef about 50 miles off-shore. She took my hand as we approached, leading me deeper underwater as we explored all the curiously unique organisms that lived in the area. I considered myself to be a chemist first, but I was still a devoted biology nerd, and the rich, diverse spectrum of ocean creatures there was fascinating. Of course, I could only devote a portion of my attention to the wildlife.

Over and over, I kept feeling that surge of energy again, even with as casual a contact as hand-holding. It was so powerful I didn't want to let go. Apparently, neither did she. We spent a while underwater, discovering nature hand-in-hand, before she took me back to the surface.

"So, what do you think?" She asked, once we broke the surface of the water. "Pretty amazing, huh?"

"Very much so. I've never seen so many different life forms."

"Good. I'm glad you liked it. So, would you be up for a little more swimming?"

Are you kidding? I could do this for months.

"Sure. Where to next?"

"It's a surprise," she said with a playful, teasing smile. "Follow me."

Coraline released my hand and took off swimming at a torrid pace, heading a little further out to sea. I wasn't expecting her to move so quickly, but I was a faster swimmer than her, and I was able to catch up after a minute or two. After about 5 minutes of swimming, we arrived at a small, sandy beach, sort of an island in the middle of nowhere, no more than ten feet in diameter. The sand was nearly white, very finely grained – almost like sugar in consistency – and it glittered ever so faintly in the clear moonlight. We were out of Harriet's cloud-range, but at night, and this far from shore, it didn't really matter. She turned around to see my reaction as we approached the beach, still shoulder-deep in the water.

"Darn! I thought I lost you," she said with a playful smile.

"Are you kidding? You leave a wake the size of a freighter."

_What? Are you mad? What are you saying, you dolt?_

"I mean, not that you're large – of course – it's more of the, uh, power of your strokes..."

"So you're calling me fat?" She teased, making light of my ill choice of analogy.

"Oh no, not at all. You're actually quite well proportioned, remarkably so, in fact, and..."

"Oh, stop it," she said, splashing me in the face with a chuckle. "You know I hate flattery. Now, c'mon, it only works if you actually get _on_ the beach."

I watched as she stepped forward onto the sand, and though I knew I was supposed to be following her, I didn't have the capacity to do anything but look. She moved as if in slow motion, as water slid from her ivory skin like a gentle rain. She was beautiful enough when standing still – motion was another level altogether. The smooth, sultry cadence of her steps was like an orchestrated symphony of individual movements, each posing her delicate curves and lines like a calligraphist's pen. Harvey was right about one thing – I was attracted to her in the most earnest way.

She got all the way out of the water before turning around to see me still neck-deep in the crystal ocean.

"Are you coming, or what?" She asked, placing a hand on her hip as her eyebrows scrunched together slightly.

"I guess," I said, shrugging my shoulders, "since you're twisting my arm."

I walked up to join her on the sand, and as soon as I did, she sat down and slowly leaned back until she was laying on the sugary surface. I followed suit, and laid down beside her, looking up at the night sky, which was absolutely full of stars.

"What do you think?" she asked after a moment.

"I'm fairly certain the garden of Eden had a place just like this," I replied, sneaking a look over at her face. Even her profile was stunning.

"So now you see why I wanted to bring you here. I spent a whole night before you got here swimming around the area, looking for the perfect spot."

"Well, you found it," I replied casually, before changing my tone to a slightly more substantial one. "So, you really... planned for us to have time out here together – alone?"

"Yeah, of course," she responded, still looking at the sky. "You didn't think I'd want to be stuck with the siblings for the entire trip, did you? Wait – you did. Grant, you're like my best friend – of course I'd want to have time with just you."

"Of course. I shouldn't have doubted that."

"Now, enough about that," she said, pointing up at the stars. "Look at how clear the milky way looks tonight – if you pay enough attention, you can make out so many little points of light..."

We laid there and watched the stars cycle overhead for nearly an hour, talking intermittently between periods of surprisingly comfortable silence. There was something so relaxing about the quiet murmur of the waves around us. It was another moment to bottle up and keep for later.

After a while, clouds began to form in patches overhead, so we sat up and looked out over the endless horizon of water, continuing our casual conversation. The night was relatively warm, but the ocean breeze had a slight chill to it, and the two of us found ourselves sitting directly next to each other, her back resting against my right arm, which was extended behind me for support. I wanted it to be _around _her, but this was as close as I was going to get under the circumstances. We eventually came to a lull in the conversation, which gave me time to remember something I'd been wanting to bring up.

"You know, you could have told me about the orchestra. Honestly..."

She sighed, leaning her head onto my shoulder. "I know. I should have told you. I'm sorry."

My thought process was nearly derailed by the presence of her head against my body – something I hadn't felt in a very long time – but I wanted to make sure I got my point across.

"Coraline, this business with Philippe... seriously, it's okay. I'm completely over that whole thing. If he wants to do something nice for you, I think that's great, as long as you're happy. We _are_ still best friends, right?"

"Absolutely," she said, seeming almost surprised that I asked.

"Then you can tell me about anything. I want to know about your life, especially things that make you happy."

"Okay. I promise to tell you about it from now on. Can we be done talking about this now?"

"Sure," I replied softly. "We can talk about anything you want."

She pulled away from me, laying down on her stomach, her head resting on her folded arms as she looked out over the waves.

"Let's just talk about relaxing things. Like this water – look at how the moonlight just dances on it. I love water."

"It is quite nice to look at," I agreed, though I hardly paid attention to it. Who could be expected to find beauty in water when someone as captivating as Coraline was laying right in front of them. My eyes traced her outline, roaming back and forth across the perfectly-shaped hills and valleys of her feminine landscape.

Exquisite in every way.

It would have been a lovely enough sight to see, had she been a stranger on a beach somewhere. This was different, though. This was the physical representation of the most remarkable personality I had ever known, the embodiment of the one person I loved more than any other. She could have been haggard and misshapen, and I still would have found her wildly attractive.

Of course, she wasn't. In the least.

Her skin was so silken and supple, I found myself preoccupied with the thought of touching it.

_Not a good idea_, I told myself, trying to deflect the

subject. _Unfortunately, not a good idea at all._

I kept telling myself that, but my heart was telling me otherwise. Eventually, I struck a compromise.

"Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" I asked after a long pause, as the wind toyed with her mostly-dry hair.

"Stop it," she groaned, still facing away from me, toward the endless waves. "No more flattery."

"It's not flattery," I replied, quiet but earnest. "I'm serious."

"I know."

"Why must you deflect it, then? Is it so wrong to receive an honest compliment?"

"It's very sweet, Grant," she answered casually, "but I think you're a little biased."

"Biased or not, you're still remarkable."

"Well, maybe, but I'm just the same as every other girl-turned-vampire in the world. It doesn't count. When I was still human, I was as plain as they come. I had bad hair days, bad skin days, bad everything days. If you would have met me as a human, you never would have even noticed me."

"Impossible," I said through a warm smile. "There could never be a world where I wasn't captivated by you, blazingly beautiful or not."

I reached out and gently stoked the curve of her back with the back of my hand, almost without thinking. My head told me to abort, but it was too late. Much to my delight, she wasn't aborting either. She turned her head to face me, mouth neutral but eyes smiling as they connected with mine.

"Where do you come up with this stuff?" She asked, finally succumbing to a gentle smile.

"I don't know... you just seem to draw it out of me," I answered, turning my hand over and slowly tracing the little divot around her spine. She drew in a deep breath, exhaling slowly in a contented sigh.

"Why do we have to live so far away? Why couldn't it be someone else, and we could just be Grant and Coraline?"

"I wish that every day," I replied, breaking eye contact to look out over the now-choppy ocean. _If only..._

We stayed just as we were for another minute or two, silent, reflective, before she moved, leaning up on her elbows.

"As nice as this is, we should probably get going. It looks like it'll rain soon, and we left our street clothes out on the beach... along with the towels."

"I suppose you're right," I sighed, not wanting to break contact with her. The gravity was growing more powerful, powerful enough to bend my better judgment. It was probably best that we left and went somewhere less romantic... and more populated. We dove back into the water, and began swimming toward the shore. My body felt cold where I had been touching her, as if in some way, my skin already missed her, though she wouldn't be leaving for Italy for another half a day. I had a feeling this goodbye would be even harder than the last, but I quickly put those thoughts out of my mind. I didn't want anything negative clouding my last remaining time with Coraline... other than the literal clouds overhead, which payed no attention to my wishes.

Even for fast swimmers like we were, it was about an hour's journey back from our little beach to the mainland, and before we were twenty minutes into the return trip, it started to rain. We both had the same thought, no doubt, as we heard the sound of a thousand water droplets hitting the ocean surface above us.

Wet clothes.

_Hurray._

The rain ceased after about fifteen minutes, but once we reached the shore, our worries were confirmed. Everything was soaked – shirts, shoes, towels – everything. The breeze had picked up to a steady wind, and it was enough to make even a vampire uncomfortable when wet. I didn't want my time with Coraline to end, but I also didn't want to slosh every time I took a step for the next few hours, so I was expecting us to go back to the hotel, at least for a change of clothing. Coraline had a different idea.

Air drying.

She informed me that we couldn't go back to the hotel yet, because she still had more places she wanted to take me, and we could kill two birds with one stone by putting on our soaking-wet clothes and running toward town at sustained speeds of over 70 miles-per-hour. It wasn't a plan for the faint of heart (or the easily chilled), but it kept me with Coraline for a while longer, so I was up for it.

The rest of the evening's plans were located in Caracas, which meant we had to make about a 30-mile round about trip through a mountain pass. We took a slightly longer path, staying far enough away from populated areas to run at full speed, and reached downtown Caracas by about 3am. Our first stop was the botanical garden operated by the university there. It was a beautiful little patch of nature in a sea of concrete buildings, quiet, tranquil, relaxing in every way.

Well, it would have been relaxing, except we were both so cold.

Hot and cold work a little differently for vampires than they do for humans. Humans can die of hypothermia if they get lost in a snowstorm, or succumb to heat stroke if they're out in the summer sun too long. Vampires don't experience the same adverse effects of the temperature extremes, but we still sense the difference between temperatures keenly, and a wind chill of about 45 degrees in shorts and a t-shirt is still uncomfortable. I followed Coraline around the garden for a minute or two, trying to pay attention to what she was showing me, but I couldn't think about anything but being cold. I eventually spoke up as she was trailing off on a sentence, emboldened by my discomfort.

"I'm sorry," I interrupted, coming to a stand-still. "I want to listen to what you're saying, but I'm absolutely freezing."

"Me too!" She said, sounding relieved. "I thought maybe it was just me..."

"Here, maybe this will help," I said, stepping over and wrapping my arms around her. I rubbed my hands rapidly over her bare arms, and in no time at all, I felt better.

And I wasn't quite as cold, either.

"How's that?" I asked, hoping I hadn't stepped over any invisible friend-line in her mind.

"That's amazing. You could keep that up for a while, if you don't mind..."

"Not at all," I said, pulling back to look at her face.

_Anything to keep me close to you._

After spending another minute or so stroking her arms, I stopped, sliding my arms back around her for a moment before I had to let go.

"I guess we should get going, then," I said, trying to let her know I wasn't reading too much into anything. "I wouldn't want to miss the rest of your tour."

"We don't have to go quite yet," she said after a brief pause.

_Maybe I _should_ have been reading something..._

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. This is good, right here," she said, nuzzling her head into my chest. I wasn't sure if she was deliberately teasing me, or if she was actually that oblivious, but I was beginning to have serious doubts in my ability to keep thinking in the 'just friends' realm. I liked it, though. It was a good feeling.

Eventually we did decide to keep moving, catching a few more sights at the garden before any rain ended the tour prematurely. Coraline led me around, holding my hand all the way. It wasn't a serious time, which probably helped keep my emotions under control. In fact, the further into the garden we went, the goofier things became. We both got a case of the giggles, turning posted informational signs into songs, talking with alternating accents that merged from Russian to Colombian, to Tennessean, climbing up on top of things that weren't meant to be climbed... you get the picture. By the time we reached the edge of the garden, it was nearly 4:30am, only five hours from our return flight home.

"Four twenty-seven..." I said, glancing at my watch. "Wow, I didn't realize we were in there for so long. I hope we still have time for the rest of your plans."

"We do," she replied, still a little laugh-happy. "It's next door."

"Okay..."

We jumped the shrubbery-fence at the end of the garden and started walking through the athletic grounds for the local university, before veering off and heading straight for a large building that looked, at least to the outsider, like a stadium. There was a short, relatively pudgy security guard pacing around the door. He whipped his flashlight out as we approached, but quickly holstered it again.

"Hello, Marcos." Coraline said to the man as we approached. "Sorry we're late."

"That's alright," he replied in a thick accent. "The team will be out around six to practice, but as long as you want to stay between now and then..."

"Thanks. We'll let ourselves out."

He turned and walked to the door, pulling out a large key ring and unlocking it. Not that we needed it, but it was nice to use the regular entrance for a change.

Once we entered the building, I saw that it was, in fact, a stadium – a baseball field. Not exactly the romantic finale to the evening that I was vainly hoping for, but fun nonetheless. Coraline turned around as we stepped onto the field, wearing a more hesitant, uncertain smile.

"Okay, so... a little explanation," she started, all the while looking as if she was trying to read my expression. "I know you're into sports now, and the last time we were together, we did lots of stuff that_ I_ enjoyed. So, I thought it would be fun if we all came out here and played a game of baseball in a real stadium. Only, once I got here with Harriet and Wesley, I saw how close the stadium was to everything else, so it would be too loud – hitting the ball, you know. And then, Harriet wasn't really in the mood for baseball anyway... So I thought just being here would still be fun, since it's a real stadium, and I know it's not Yankee Stadium, or the Rose Bowl, or anything, but, well... I don't know... it sounded like a much better idea in my head..."

"You remember the Rose Bowl?"

"Of course. And Wrigley Field, and Comiskey Park, and all the other places you've been to see baseball games... and football games, too, I guess."

I could tell she was feeling a little insecure about the choice to come, which was totally unnecessary. Just being with her was a wonderful activity.

"Coraline, this is great. It doesn't matter what team really plays here, I'm happy to have time with you, wherever it is. And on top of that, it means a lot to me that you remembered all that."

"Of course I remember. It's something you really care about. I even learned how to play baseball just so we could all play together. I have a pretty mean fastball..."

"Is that so?" I answered, sliding back into that tongue-in-cheek, joking mood.

"Uh-huh," she said, smiling deviously and nodding. "You might need a glove."

There were a couple baseballs laying behind home plate, near the backstop. She grabbed one and trotted out to the pitcher's mound, and I took my place behind the plate, expecting a little throw-and-catch. What I didn't realize was that she really had been practicing. She went through the whole windup for the pitch, and delivered the ball with such velocity that it did sting a little.

Impressive.

"Wow, that was really... good," I said, pleasantly surprised.

"I told you, I've been practicing."

"With who – Whitey Ford?"

"I may have gotten a little head-start from Hermes," she replied, smiling deviously again, "but the rest was hard work. Honest."

"It's a shame we won't have the chance to play. You'll just have to come with me to the Cullen's sometime. You may just give Alice a run for her money as the best pitcher. How's your curve ball?"

"Why don't you find out?" She said, raising one eyebrow in mock seduction.

I tossed her another ball, and prepared to catch another stinger, but before the ball even left her hand, I was hit by something else that stung a little. I looked up to see what had just struck me on the top of the head, not realizing that she was just releasing the pitch, which subsequently hit me on my left hip.

"Oh, my god, are you alright?" Coraline asked, zooming over to my side just after the ball had. "I thought you were ready..."

"I'm alright, I just-"

My reply was interrupted by another hard object hitting me, this time on the shoulder. I bent over to pick up the offending object, which, upon further inspection, appeared to be a large piece of ice.

"Wait – is that... _hail_?" Coraline asked, simultaneously surprised and angry.

"I believe so..." I replied, as another hit the ground just beside us. And then another, and another... and then it was a deluge.

She looked at me with wide eyes, though still not too serious.

"Run!"

We both ran for cover, half-shrieking, half-laughing as the golf-ball-sized hailstones began to pour down around us, accompanied by large rain droplets, and ended up under the awning over the grandstand. There was only a small window of hail-free space in the bleachers, and we planted ourselves there, coincidentally in each-other's arms. Our bodies seemed to find their way into that position without the help of our brains.

"I'm gonna kill my sister," she said, trying to look angry, though a smile still came through.

"I think you're just meant to be soaked tonight," I replied, talking over the roar of the hailstones hitting the metal awning above us.

My eyes locked onto hers, and got pleasantly stuck there. They were so enchanting, so welcoming and longing... I couldn't look away. Neither could she. We both stood there for a minute or two, speechless, motionless, caught up in the moment. For all the joking over the past hour, things were suddenly serious. A swirl of emotions started blending inside me, drowning the objective control my mind was holding over my actions. There was no room for logic anymore.

"God, you're beautiful," I whispered, echoing the repetitive thought in my head. I started to say more, but I was cut off by the pressure of her lips against mine. It happened so quickly that it took my brain a moment to catch up with my mouth.

_She... kissed me? She's kissing me... Alright, then. Kissing it is._

Our first kiss so many years ago had been sweet, even timid – at least, at the beginning. This time, there were no preliminaries. We kissed passionately, as if the whole weight of the world was pushing us together – and yet, at the same time, there was still that weightless, care-free euphoria that I remembered from the last time our lips met. Even with a perfect memory, I had somehow forgotten just how sweet she tasted, how deliciously smooth her lips were as they glided over mine like silk sheets. It was all a bit of sensory overload, trying to take in all the electrifying physical sensations, while also processing the significance and ramifications of what we were doing. She must have been thinking the same things, because after a brief moment of bliss, she ended the kiss as suddenly as she had started it, holding me out at arm's length.

"Wait a minute – what are we doing?" she asked rapidly, her eyes scanning my face. "We can't do this. We're just friends."

"Right..." I agreed, disappointed, but not surprised. "Right. What was I thinking?"

"Sorry, I guess I just got caught up in the moment," she said, releasing me as we sat side by side on the bleachers.

"That's quite alright. It's been a long day."

"Yeah, I guess it has."

We both stared out at the field as hail continued to fall on it intermittently.

"Still hailing," I said, after twenty seconds that felt like twenty minutes.

"Yep."

"Don't suppose they'll still be practicing this morning..."

"Nope."

"I suppose that's good."

"I suppose."

To say it was awkward would be an understatement. I peeked over in her direction, and she was still staring blankly at the field.

Terrific.

_Well, that was just swell, Grant. Way to kill the mood._

"These seats are hard," she said very plainly.

"Mmm-Hmm. For a human, at least."

"Yeah, for a human."

Another fifteen seconds of silence.

"Still hailing."

"Yep."

I chanced another peek in her direction, and found her doing the exact same thing. What happened next is difficult to explain. The closest thing I could liken it to would be sitting in the last car of a roller coaster as it comes to the top of the first big hill. The front car very slowly creeps over the crest of the hill, beginning its descent downward. One by one, the other cars follow, a little faster each time, until finally, the last car is whipped over the crest at blinding speed, powerless to resist the weight and velocity of the rest of the coaster train as it races through the track.

It happened like that – in the span of about two seconds.

As soon as I realized she was glancing at me, a shock raced through me like a bolt of lightning, accompanied by a sensation like a warm, heavy, tingling breath all over me. Slowly, almost without conscious thought, my head began to turn in her direction, as hers did the same. Faster and faster our heads turned, drawing our bodies with them. I tilted to the left, she tilted to the right. My right hand cupped her jaw, fingers behind her head, her left hand held my head, fingers laced in my hair. And then our lips met again.

Explosion.

To say it was passionate would be an understatement. We kissed with urgency, as if the world was ending in five minutes, and this was our final experience as sentient beings. A kiss that intense couldn't be contained to merely our lips. I drew her upper body into mine, holding her securely in my arms as if she were on the edge of a cliff, yet as tenderly as if she were made of flower petals. She caressed my back and head, pressing herself against me as our lips and teeth and tongues continued to dance together. Soon, we found ourselves slowly reclining, until my arms were touching the bleachers, supporting her elegant frame as my body rested atop hers. I shifted my weight, supporting my upper body slightly with my arms, as her legs wrapped around me.

I didn't know where this was going, but I liked it.

After another few moments, I left her mouth, kissing first her cheek, then moving slowly over to her jaw. Very slowly, I traced her jawline to her neck, then gradually down to her collarbone. She let out a slight contented sigh, tugging gently at my hair for a moment before pulling my head back up to hers and resuming the mutual kissing. Our bodies writhed together beautifully, like a pair of dancers improvising in perfect unison. It was amazing.

_This must be a dream. Can this possibly be happening?_

_Oh, yes. Yes it can._

We continued our routine for a short while longer before she pushed my upper body away slightly, looking directly into my eyes with a wildly seductive gaze as she literally tore the shirt off my back.

_O dear god. _

She ran her marble hands over my chest, tracing the lines of my less-than-exquisitely sculpted muscles before pulling me back on top of her. I realized my hands had found their way inside of her shirt on the way back down, caressing the bare skin of her back as she did the same to me. And then it got a little crazy. I felt her hands leave my back and move to my waist, working feverishly to... untie my trousers – _Oh, good god!_

"Coraline!" I whisper-shouted, vaulting myself off of her and into a sitting position on the bleachers.

"What?" She asked, scanning my face rapidly in confusion.

"What are we doing here?"

"Um... well, what did it look like we were doing?" she replied, still seeming confused.

"I can't... we can't... we're not even... dating."

"O my god. Are you _serious_?"

"Well, yes. A kiss is one thing, but..."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Honestly, Coraline. I want to... so much, but not like this. Not... like this."

She sighed again, this time out of frustration and disappointment. "You're right. It shouldn't be this way. I just thought... god, I don't know what I was thinking."

_I've got a few ideas as to what you were thinking. You were thinking about how your body wanted mine as much as mine wanted yours. You were thinking you were in love with me. How's that for a start?_

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pushed..." I said, looking out at the field.

"_You're_ sorry? _I'm_ the one who was pushing. I don't know what's gotten into me."

_I do._

"It was good, though. I mean... very good."

"That's not really the point."

"No. But it was good"

I looked at her, and a reluctant smile escaped the defenses of her emotionally guarded face.

"Yeah. It was good."

"Can we still be friends?" I asked, looking her in the eyes once again.

"We'd better be," she answered, her eyebrows bunching in before a wider smile formed on her perfect mouth.

We sat there for a while to let things cool off a bit, sliding back into best-friend conversation without any difficulty. Eventually, the hail stopped, transitioning into a very light drizzle that was tolerable to walk through. It was nearing 6am, and though I suspected the athletic team's practice would be canceled, we still needed to get back to the hotel in a reasonable amount of time to pack our things and prepare to fly to our respective homes.

"We should probably start heading back to the hotel soon," she said, noting the time, as I had.

"I suppose you're right," I sighed, not ready to let go of my time with her. "Wouldn't want to miss our flights home. Or would we?"

I raised one eyebrow playfully. She chuckled.

"I wish. C'mon, let's get going."

We stood up and started walking back down the stands to the field, almost reaching the bottom before she stopped and tilted her head slightly.

"You're just gonna go like that – without a shirt?"

"You sort of ripped it in half, remember?" I said, keeping a straight face.

"Oh yeah, I guess I did," she said with an embarrassed smile. "Sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it. I'll bill you later."

We took our time (relatively speaking) getting back to the hotel, arriving with about an hour and a half to pack and get to the airport. After our long walk/run from Caracas, I had forgotten that I was only half dressed. Harvey reminded me as soon as we entered the group suite.

"Whoa... look who's coming back half-naked. What happened out there? Things get a little rough?"

He was grinning from ear to ear. I was mortified.

"No, I..."

"Lost it," Coraline finished for me. She was a much better liar. "It was stolen, actually. We went swimming in the ocean for a couple hours, and when we came back, it was gone."

"Really?" Wesley said, doubtfully. "So that's all you were doing – swimming?"

"It wasn't all we were doing," Coraline said defensively.

"Grant and Coraline sittin' in a tree," Harriet began chanting, an antagonistic smile on her face.

"I know what else you two were doing," Harvey teased.

"I'll have you know," Coraline replied, "Grant and I spent the evening exploring the coral reef and walking through the botanical garden. It was all very enlightening, and completely platonic."

"More like watching the submarines race," Harvey said with an obvious wink.

"...k-i-s-s-i-n-g," Harriet continued, relishing the annoyance she was causing her sister.

"That's great, Harriet. Very mature," she countered, heavily sarcastic. I could tell the teasing was getting to her a bit.

"Aww, we're just giving you two a hard time," Wesley said, realizing Coraline was becoming upset. "I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation for the messed up hair and missing shirt."

He winked. _Is my hair really that messed up?_

"You two had better start packing," Lucy said, speaking up for the first time. "Harvey is the Attila-the-Hun of getting to the airport on time."

"Thanks, love," he said, feigning hurt feelings."Love you, too."

We went to our respective rooms (which we had hardly used over the weekend), packed our things, and met with everyone else down in the lobby. Lucy had an extra bag there for me and for Harvey, and there was still so much left over that we had to pay for her souvenirs to be packed in a crate and shipped back to Portland separately. The whole group piled into our two rental cars, driving them back to the airport in tandem. Our flight actually left two hours before theirs, but they wanted to see us off.

With all the time it took to pack up Lucy's extra cargo, we didn't have long for goodbye's, but we made the most of what we had. I said my parting words to Wes and Harriet first, and the rest of the group was kind enough to give me and Coraline a minute or two of privacy before we boarded the plane.

"So, I guess this is it for a while," she said, melancholy and dejected.

"I suppose so. Hopefully it won't take as long to visit again..."

"It won't. I promise. I'll find a way."

"Good. I'm not sure I could handle another six years."

_I'm not sure I could handle six weeks._

There was a bit of a pause. She looked down, fidgeting uncomfortably before speaking again.

"Listen, about the kiss..."

"Yes, so about that..."

"It doesn't have to change things. I know that sounds... naive, especially coming from me, but I mean it. We can be friends who kissed once, and that was it."

"I don't know if that's possible."

"It is. It has to be. There's no other way, Grant. We can't be together, and I can't live without us at least being friends. I just... can't. I need you. Please..."

What could I say? I couldn't come one step short of making love to her, and then turn around, pretend like nothing happened and go back to being platonic friends. I loved her too much to truly be 'just friends.' But then, on the other hand, I loved her too much to lose that contact, that closeness to her that I narrowly held onto as a 'friend.' I couldn't lose that again. Ever.

"I could never stop being your friend, Coraline. I only wish it could be more than that."

"I know. But we both know that it can't. I just want there to be an 'us' in whatever way is possible."

"Me too."

My brother peeked his head around the corner of the airline terminal, giving me the "get on board now, or we're leaving without you" look.

_So much for long goodbyes._

"I have to go," I said, taking her hands again and looking into her eyes.

"Okay," she replied, biting her lip as she looked back at me through pained eyes.

"Write me as often as you can."

"I will. Go – don't miss your plane."

I stared intently into those beautiful eyes, wishing I could say more, but there were no words left that would carry my feelings adequately. I knew what I had to do, and I knew I would probably kick myself for it later, but I didn't care. I cupped my hand behind her head and kissed her one last time – briefly, sweetly, sincerely. She didn't resist it.

"Goodbye, Coraline," I said, as I pulled back, fixed on those eyes for every last split-second I had. They looked so sad, as if they were welling up with the invisible tears that vampires don't have, tears that broke my heart to see, but glistened with a silver lining of hope. She did care about me, and to a greater extent than she was willing to express with words.

I let out a long, deep breath as the stewardess closed the airplane's door behind me, sad and lonely, but even more so, hopeful and determined. This weekend was not an anomaly, it was a first step. We may be 'friends' for official purposes, but I wasn't about to let our romance go down without a fight.


	9. Chapter 9

9. LONG-DISTANCE

- - - CORALINE GRAY - - -

If there was one thing I had learned after living for thirty-three years as a vampire, it was that human nature still exerted as much influence as it ever did. In fact, vampire nature was mostly just human nature taken to extremes.

For example, it's human nature to always want what you can't have. I felt that one every day.

The weekend in Caracas was sort of a breaking-point for me when it came to my relationship with Grant. I came into the country fully in control of my emotions, completely objective. By the time I was on the plane home, I was basically a wreck. Keeping Grant at an arm's length was the only way I could cope with being apart from him for years and years at a time. After that weekend (and the kiss), I lost my edge. I didn't want to be calloused anymore. I wanted to feel, because even with the loneliness of being apart, the bliss of being in love together was too sweet to pass up.

I promised Grant as we said goodbye that I would find a way to see him again before another six years passed, and I kept that promise. I met him again just nine months later, spending a little over a day together in Kiev. It wasn't much, but I had to do something. We met up again in 1966, when I talked Moses into covering for me while I snuck away from Sydney, Australia to spend three days with Grant roaming up and down the Australian coast. There wasn't a lot of deep conversation during that visit, but there was a lot of kissing. He still wouldn't take it any further than a kiss, but his kissing was... well, it was pretty amazing. I couldn't complain.

I saw Grant next in Rio de Janeiro in 1971, followed by a group visit to Anchorage in 1973. I could never seem to get enough time with him – even visiting as often as I did, it was all I could do to keep it together sometimes. We still wrote letters back and forth, but what I enjoyed a lot more was talking to him on the telephone. I didn't usually get long enough without supervision to set up a visit with Grant, but I did get a few hours to myself every now and then, and most of the time I had access to a telephone. Just hearing his voice was like a piece of bread to a starving woman.

The problem with seeing Grant more often and opening up a bigger piece of my heart to him was that when we were apart, there was an even bigger part of me missing. Our visits and phone calls were equal parts paradise and torture – every time we said goodbye, it got a little harder, and I honestly wondered if I would break down one day and try to run off with him. I tried not to ever let myself even think about that, because there was only one possible outcome. Philippe and Demetri would find us, and most likely, kill us. There was no way around it. I was trapped. Weekend visits were all I had, so I made the most of them. That is, until September 1973, when everything went to pot.

I was actually packing my things to go visit Grant again, this time, in Atlanta, when Conwell Peterson came bursting through my door, intense and panicked. Conwell was normally a very quiet, laid-back person; as soon as I saw his face, I knew something was wrong.

"Miss Gray – please stay calm. I need you to exit the building with me at once."

"What? Why – what's going on?"

"We have reason to believe that there is a credible threat to your safety here in the catacombs. Philippe has instructed me to quietly remove you and miss Blackburn and take you to a safer location."

"Okay..." I answered, trying to collect my thoughts. "Do I have a minute to gather my things?"

"I'm afraid not," Conwell answered, visibly nervous. "The matter is very urgent. Please try to remain calm, though, as many of the city's inhabitants haven't yet been informed. We don't want to start a panic."

Judging from the look on his face, it was a little too late for that. Conwell led me past Harriet's room, picking her up on the way as we traveled swiftly through unfamiliar hallways past the living quarters for the important officials and up to the surface on an ancient-looking staircase that I had never seen before. It was almost noon when we stepped onto the street, and if there had been anyone else in the alley, they would have easily seen us glittering. We climbed into a shaded car that was there waiting for us, and before the door was even shut, it took off like a bullet from a gun, tires squealing as it went.

This was a serious problem.

I recognized the car's driver – it was Trent, the British guard member who usually teamed up with Moses. I didn't know him all that well, but he was nice enough, and he usually knew what was going on.

"What's happening, Trent?" I asked, as the car raced through town, trying to speak in a calmer tone than how I felt. "Where are you taking us?"

"Philippe has a private jet waiting to transport the two of you out of the country. You'll be joining him in a secure location near the border of Poland and the Slovak Republic."

"But, why? What is going on that's got everyone so up-in-arms?"

"I don't have all the details yet – nobody does. All I know is that there's been an assassination involving several high-ranking members of the Guard, and we're taking every precaution to ensure your safety, in the event that the violence comes to Volterra."

"And what about you? Are you coming too?"

"I'm staying behind. The Three are refusing to leave Volterra, and Conwell and I will be returning to the catacombs as soon as possible to provide protection."

I looked over at Harriet, who – understandably so – looked worried.

"He'll be fine," I said confidently, speaking of Wesley, who was on a two-week hiking trip in the Alaskan mountains with Harvey Willoughby. "We'll call him when we get there. He said he would check for any messages before they left for New York, remember?"

She nodded. My sister was a sweet girl, but she really didn't handle stress very well.

We boarded the plane, flew to Slovakia, and exited without ever seeing our pilot, who I assumed was human. Heidi was waiting for us at the makeshift air strip in yet another car. She didn't know any more than Trent did. We rode with her in the car for almost four hours, weaving a path further and further up into a pretty big mountain range. The sun was beginning to set when we finally arrived at a large, glass-paned lodge, that had Philippe's character written all over it. It looked more like a five-star resort than a mountain hide-out. I wasn't thrilled about being whisked away to the middle of nowhere for who knows how long, but at least the accommodations were nice.

Philippe was on the phone with someone when we arrived, speaking in a language I didn't recognize. It sounded like Finnish, or Danish, or something. I could tell he was upset about something, a fact he quickly tried to mask when he hung up and turned around to welcome us.

"Coraline, Harriet – I'm so glad you made it here unharmed. I hope you'll forgive my methods for bringing you here, but I had to be sure you were safe. Please, right this way..."

He led us through the three-story-tall entryway, climbing a staircase and coming to a room the size of a small house, furnished in a way that would make the queen of England jealous.

"I hope you don't mind sharing a room for a few days – I'm hosting more guests than I'm accustomed to. Please, make yourselves at home. Heidi will be traveling to Krakow tomorrow to pick up some clothes for you to wear while you're here. I believe she knows your sizes and tastes well enough..."

"And just how long are we going to be here?" I asked, a little irritated at the fact that I was still out of the loop. "We still don't know what's going on."

"Oh, it's nothing to be too concerned with, just a little unrest. With any luck, we'll have you back in Volterra in four or five days."

I could tell he was covering something up, and I got the impression it was Harriet he was concerned with hiding the details from. I decided to let it go at the moment, and press him for information a little later.

Once we were settled in, Harriet went to make her call to Wesley, and I went to get answers from Philippe.

"Alright, quit treating me like a child," I said with an almost hostile edge, as I walked into his office and sat in the chair opposite his desk. "I wanna know what's happening, and you're going to tell me."

"Very well," he sighed, slightly annoyed, "but shut the door first."

I worked to keep from shutting the large solid-wood door with too much force, and promptly returned to my seat, wearing my best no-nonsense face.

"Spill it."

He let out a long breath and paused before speaking, still wishing I'd let it go.

I wouldn't.

"There was a significant assassination earlier today – two of them, actually. We believe the people responsible wish our entire government ill will, and myself in particular."

"I already knew that," I said in a matter-of-fact tone. "Tell me the rest of the story. Who was assassinated?"

"Kaladar BenJarvus and Henry Groendyke. Kaladar was the regional guard captain for the middle eastern territory – everything from central Africa to the border of the Soviet Union. Henry was regional captain for all of Europe – with the exception of Italy, of course. They were meeting in Qatar to discuss regular business items when they were killed, along with six bodyguards."

"Wow. That must have been a huge group of assassins."

"Not necessarily. They were destroyed with a bomb."

"What? How is that even possible?"

"The assassins – terrorists, really – somehow gained possession of a nuclear device, which they were able to detonate at nearly point-blank range."

"And that was enough to... _kill_ them?"

I didn't really know that much about human weapons – they had never been much of a factor before.

"I've been on the phone with our best scientists all day. Within thirty or so feet of the blast center, a bomb like that can generate heat in excess of five hundred thousand degrees Fahrenheit. They were instantly incinerated, and even if they hadn't been, the shock-wave of the blast would have been enough to blow them into a million pieces."

Philippe was unusually grave – visibly shaken, almost... scared. That didn't exactly instill confidence in my safety.

"Needless to say, it has us all greatly concerned," he continued, staring blankly at his desk. "I've feared for some time that science and weapon technology would progress to the point where our relative invincibility would be negated. I just didn't think it would be so soon."

"So, were they killed by _humans_, then?"

"No. I don't think so. There are several theories out there, but the one I ascribe to is perhaps the most unsettling one."

"And what's _your_ theory?"

"Remember I told you there were two incidents? The other assassination was May Crompton. She was the regional director for the far east... and India."

"_India_... you think this has something to do with the India War?"

"I'm certain of it."

"How is that possible? I thought we killed everyone..."

"Obviously not."

Philippe reached behind him, turning the radio on loudly, and leaned in across the desk, as if he had a secret to tell me that he didn't want anyone else to hear.

"There was a lot more going on during the India War than what they were telling everyone in Volterra. They told you it was the work of a few radicals that became violent. They didn't want to talk about the truth, for fear that it would stir up a panic."

"And what is the truth?"

"There is a group of insurgents that has been a thorn in our side for millennia. They call themselves the 'Sons of Alphaeus.' They're anarchists; they've opposed every ruling party for the last three thousand years – the dictatorship of Unas, the Romanian dynasty, and of course, the Volturi. This is now the seventh time they've challenged the rule in Volterra, and I fear this time they may have the weapons to incur serious damage. I'm sure you can appreciate the delicacy with which the Three wish to treat the issue."

"I don't understand; I thought you and Demetri killed them all at the end of the India War."

"That's what we thought. Obviously, we were wrong. We have believed them to be extinct many times before, only to have them surface again with their numbers reinforced. "

"Isn't that what Demetri is for – finding people? How did they escape detection?"

It was off-subject, but the idea of being able to disappear was a dream of mine. If there was a way to do it, I wanted to know.

"Demetri's reputation suggests his mental net is impenetrable, but in reality, his reach is not as comprehensive as he or the Three would lead you to believe. The Sons of Alphaeus have been slipping our detection for years – believe me, if I knew how they were doing it, I would have stopped them several hundred years ago. They are a fiercely loyal group, so credible intelligence from the inside is extremely hard to come by. What we do know is that they have a large number of specials – possibly even rivaling my own collection – and they are always adding to their ranks. For all we know, they have one or more members that offer them undetectability. It's terribly frustrating – especially since the burden always seems to fall on me to handle the messes they make."

"You said they were targeting you in particular..."

"Yes... near the end of the India War, we caught a break. Piers, Donovan and I stumbled upon a hideout of theirs, quite by accident. They were caught off-guard, and the three of us killed five of them, including their third-in-command. We took as a captive the mate of their leader, Junius. I was hopeful that we could trade her in return for an armistice, but the brutes were obstinate, so I had her publicly executed, which turned out to be a brilliant move. Their fighters were so enraged by the execution that they launched an all-out offensive, and we were able to finish them all off in one battle, rather than chasing them through the jungle like we had been doing. Needless to say, they haven't forgiven me."

"So, then... are we safe here?"

"As safe as we can be at the moment. I've got Mbete, the Mongolian and Kainano stationed here in the building, and as soon as the non-military specials are safely hidden, I'll have three or four more fighters to come join us here. You needn't worry – I won't let any harm come to you or your sister."

"And what about the Volturi?" I asked, secretly hoping for bad news. If they died, I would be released from my sentence. "Are they really just going to wait there in the catacombs for these guys to come after them?"

"Of course not. They've been in hiding for hours."

"But... Trent said-"

"Trent told you what he believed to be true. We have to make it look like the Three are still in there. It's our best chance at an ambush. If you spend enough time in politics, you'll learn that it's all about reputations and the control of information. If word got out that Aro, Caius and Marcus were fleeing their stronghold, afraid that another group had the power to destroy them... well, it wouldn't exactly instill the kind of intimidation necessary to control the vampire population of the world. The moment they are perceived as being weak or vulnerable, ten other groups just like this one will pop up, trying to start a revolution and set themselves up as the new ruling party. The Volturi have a vaunted reputation for boldness in the face of threats – as far as anyone knows, they never leave the tower, not even with legitimate threats to their safety. The truth is, they have a knack for survival, not boldness. They left at the beginning of the India War, and several of the times before. We'll keep them safely tucked away until the Sons of Alphaeus show their hand. "

"And what if these terrorists actually detonate one of those bombs in Volterra? Are you just going to let Trent and Conwell and Moses die as decoys?"

"If their deaths serve the greater purpose."

"There are at least twenty other vampires down there, not to mention the thousands of humans living above the surface. You're gonna let them die, too?"

"Of course I wouldn't be happy about it, but let's be honest here – the ones we left in Volterra, they're a dime a dozen. All the talent is safe, the assets that are irreplaceable. That's why I have _you_ here, you know. The Three gave orders only for the evacuation of their inner circle – Jane, Alec and the like – and my stable of specials. I made an exception for you, because I believe you're valuable. You're irreplaceable, Coraline. I'm not an idiot – I know you think me cold and shallow, and you may be right, but one day, I hope you'll come to realize the great power I wield. I have become one of the most influential men in the world, and if you could ever get over your pride, I would still have a place for you at my side. Connection to me would get you very far in life, to places that childish puppy-love would never bring you. I could give you everything you could ever wish for. Hopefully you'll come to see things my way sooner or later."

_Still trying to woo me. If only you knew how hopelessly outmatched you are..._

"Thank you for your hospitality," I said cordially, hoping to avoid the subject of my relationship with Philippe. "I should go check on Harriet – I'm sure she's done with her phone call by now."

"Think about what I said, Coraline," he said as I stood up to leave. "My offer still stands. When you're ready to accept it, I'll be here waiting."

I walked out his door without responding, found my sister, and we waited. In fact, that's all we did for the next _six weeks._

We waited.

I was more in-the-loop this time around than I had been the last time the Volturi was at war with the Sons of Alphaeus, and though I still didn't get all the details, I knew enough to get a sense of what was happening in the outside world. Within 24 hours of my arrival, there were at least ten other vampires at Philippe's mountain lodge, each of them brought in to help figure out a way to quickly end the threat to the Volturi. Most of them were strangers to me, but one I did recognize – Elliot Pinter.

I never spent that much time with Elliot at the orphanage for several reasons. For one, he was much younger than I was, and he was always a little socially awkward. The main reason, though, was that there was always something a little weird about him. I could never quite pinpoint it as a human, and even years later as a vampire, the specifics eluded me. All I knew was that there was something strange and unpleasant about him. I probably didn't say more than ten words to him the entire time we were at the lodge, and I was okay with that. For the most part, I just stuck with Harriet and tried to keep her company. I spent the majority of my time in the room with her, both because Wesley wasn't allowed to join us at the lodge, and because I wanted to get away from Philippe.

As busy as he was trying to thwart the "S.O.A.," as they were called in the lodge, he always seemed to have extra time to try and woo me. Ever since his big promotion, I had seen Philippe a lot less. He was always off traveling somewhere or meeting with someone important. Of course, I didn't mind at all – his incessant advances got old quickly. Now that we were under the same roof, though, it was like he suddenly remembered that he wanted to make me his wife (even while he was sleeping around with his aide, Heidi, every day under that same roof). The more I got to know him, the more I was convinced that he would be the absolute_ last_ person on the earth I would ever have any romantic relationship with. I tried to make it obvious enough that I wasn't interested, but I was afraid to reject him outright. After all, he had the power to turn me over to the S.O.A., or worse, and it wouldn't have been out of character for him at all.

It was over six weeks before things were "safe" enough for us to return to Volterra (and for Wesley to rejoin Harriet), and even then, the whole place was on high alert. The S.O.A. were never able to set off another bomb, thanks to Jack, one of Philippe's specials. Jack had the ability to detect elements and substances – such as the enriched uranium used in nuclear devices – from a distance. He had to be acclimated to it like a bloodhound takes to a person's scent, but once he got it, he could detect anything nuclear within a 100-mile was a little scary to learn that we intercepted three different nuclear devices belonging to the S.O.A. I didn't even want to think about what would have happened if we hadn't had Jack.

The war with the Sons of Alphaeus (or, at least, the threat of outright war) went on until March of 1976, when this particular faction's leader – an expert tracker named Robert Snow – was finally killed. Victory for the Volturi was sweet, but it didn't come cheap. We lost several good fighters, some of whom worked directly under Philippe, and were very close to me. Piers and Kainano, two of the men on my mission to Peru, were killed in an ambush in Pakistan. Conwell, the one who pulled me out of Volterra, died trying to intercept a bomb in Turkey. It went off in his hands. The one that hurt the most, though, was Edgar, who died saving the lives of four other guard members in southeast India. Even though I hadn't seen him in a long time, Edgar still held a special place in my mind as my only half-friend in Volterra. And of course, he was the one who helped me save Grant's life on three separate occasions. Considering the fact that he was under direct orders from Philippe, and he was the only one of his group killed, I often wondered if his death had anything to do with Philippe's suspicions that he had been helping me.

By the end of the fighting, twelve S.O.A. members had been rounded up and killed, at the expense of seventeen Volturi guard members (four of whom were part of Philippe's special unit). The big Three were not-surprisingly impressed yet again with Philippe's work, and they restructured things in Volterra to give him more power and flexibility with his team. As much as I detested Philippe, even _I _had to admit, he was good at what he did. Without his specials, we may not have won the war at all, and even if we had, there would have been many more lives lost. He deserved more responsibility, and that's what the Volturi gave him. Philippe gained, among other things, the freedom to recruit absolutely anyone to his private team of soldiers and specials – a team that was capped at a whopping 30 members. I was one of the first people he asked the Volturi for, and they agreed to transfer the administration of the rest of my prison sentence to him – all 18 years of it (yes, I was still counting). Normally, I would have protested the idea to no end, but I was desperate to get out of Volterra (to see Grant again, or at least write him), and I wouldn't be getting any more help from Harriet.

After the war (which Wesley was asked to volunteer for), Wesley and Harriet petitioned the Volturi to release them, at least for a season, so they could travel and experience other things. I couldn't understand why, but the Volturi went along with it, and after 32 years serving in the capital city, Harriet was allowed to go and live her own life again. I spent a whole week moping around when I heard the news. I wanted to beg her to stay, but I loved her too much to tie her wings down any longer. She and Wesley bought a house on a little island about thirty miles off the southern coast of Greece, and they came to visit me in Italy at least twice a month, sometimes staying for three or four days at a time. Seeing my sister once every other week wasn't ideal, but it was as close to a perfect compromise as I was going to get.

The nice thing about working for Philippe was having freedom. I had no indoor/outdoor restrictions whatsoever – I could come and go from my new, above-ground home whenever I pleased, as long as I stayed in the city. There was a phone in my new place, which I used to call Harriet, but I knew better than to attempt a call to Grant on it. Eventually, I found six different public-access phones in town, and I made a regular circuit out of them, calling Grant at every opportunity I got, which wasn't always a lot. I had enough work to keep me busy.

As a part of Philippe's team, my official responsibility was to train up new specials, much like Eliza Thornbloom had done for me. Unofficially, though, I did a little bit of everything – paperwork, meetings, negotiations with other vampire and human agencies, and eventually... travel.

I'm an intelligent, cynical, cautious person, and it took every ounce of those traits to keep me from meeting Grant on the first trip I took as part of Philippe's team. I hadn't seen him in almost three years, and everything in me was dying to end that drought, but I couldn't risk Grant's safety, no matter how badly I wanted to see him. I didn't even tell him I was going somewhere.

By the time my fourth trip was on the calendar, I felt comfortable enough with the way things were done to sneak in a visit on the side. I would have given anything to see Grant's face when I told him we could meet again – I was giddy enough just hearing his reaction over the phone. I saw him for exactly three hours and six minutes during a fall visit to Seville, Spain. We didn't go anywhere, we didn't see anything, we just sat and talked (and kissed) in the cellar of a bar a couple blocks from my hotel. I knew I probably could have risked a little more time together, but I also knew Philippe would be keeping a closer eye on my travel plans now that I was working directly under him, and I didn't want to push my luck.

I tore myself away after a few life-giving hours, promising to meet him again soon. I went back to Volterra, determined to work hard enough to earn more travel time, and that's just what I did. I was the best talent scout/negotiator/whatever-he-needed that Philippe had ever seen, and he rewarded me with more freedom to travel, loosening my time restrictions and allowing me to occasionally bring friends along (like Wesley and Harriet). I got to see Grant a lot more often over the next three years (eight times in 36 months), but unfortunately, I also saw a lot more of Philippe. The stupid jerk just wouldn't give up trying to win me over. I got the whole bit – flowers, clothing, jewelry, cars, yachts (yes, he even bought me a yacht). He reinstated the Volterra Concert Orchestra, and secured permission to convert several top-notch professional musicians for the sole purpose of playing with me. He was pulling out every trick in his book, but I could have cared less.

Besides being one of the most arrogant, self-absorbed people I had ever met, Philippe was a major womanizer. His ritzy charm and coercive powers got him into the underpants of all sorts of women, both in Volterra and around the world during his business travels, but none of them ever seemed to mean anything. He used women like handkerchiefs, getting whatever he could out of them for a season, then tossing them aside like they were garbage. He was detestable. I counted down every day that got me closer to freedom from him and everything else I hated about Volterra. I also counted every day that brought me closer to another visit with Grant.

By 1979, I was setting up several trips a year, fitting in more and more time as I learned how to work the system Philippe had in place. Once, in Amsterdam, we had three and a half days together, unsupervised, completely uninterrupted. After all the time we had spent over the previous few years kissing and touching, I was really hoping to coax at least one night of love-making out of him, but he was insistent that we wait until some magical day when it was 'right.' He said he didn't want to make a harlot of me, that he wanted to enjoy me completely 'without a tinge of regret.' I just wanted his body on mine. He was just as stubborn as Philippe, though, so I came home again, thrilled to be with him, but still wanting more.

What Grant didn't realize was that there would never be a perfect time – not for us. It would still be fifteen years until I would be free from my prison sentence, and even then, there was no guarantee that I could just stroll off into the sunset and never look over my shoulder. We weren't even guaranteed another visit. There was no better time than the present. Besides all that, I was running out of self-control.

I couldn't keep dipping my toes in the pool and not jump in, so I devised a plan. I worked out an extended visit in the fall of 1979, with a full three nights in New York City where we could be alone together. I booked a room at the Waldorf-Astoria, pulled out my sexiest outfits and went lingerie-shopping with Harriet in Paris. Grant may have been set in his ways, but he was still a man – a man who was in love with me and wanted me as badly as I wanted him. New York was finally our time – If there was any kink in his armor, I was going to find it.

- - - GRANT WILLOUGHBY - - -

After our time together in Venezuela, I knew that things between me and Coraline would change. They had to change. I just hoped they would change for the better. After all, it was hard to have passionate kissing sessions with a completely platonic friend. The scale was unbalanced between friendship and romance, and I didn't know which way it would tip.

Thankfully, it didn't take that long to find out.

I got a call from Coraline in February of 1963, informing me that if I could get to Kiev, Ukraine in the next 36 hours, I would have the chance to see her again. Airfare on such short notice cost a fortune (as well as a few cashed-in favors from my days with Hawkins & Co.), but I got there. We only had a few hours together, but it was a few hours of living, after nine months of hibernation. I would have flown there for ten minutes with her.

Before I saw Coraline again, I had to take the family through another relocation. We had all thoroughly enjoyed our 7+ years in Portland, but Lucy just wasn't that believable as a 28-year-old, and we were all eager to get back to the British Isles, so we packed up everything and moved to Glasgow, Scotland.

Glasgow was a little smaller than Portland, but it certainly kept up with the natural beauty of our last two American homes, and it had something valuable that neither of them could offer. The University of Glasgow was one of the oldest and most respected universities in the United Kingdom, and a position teaching there was a dream come true for me. Fortunately, I knew a chap who knew a fellow who could produce a brilliant resume for me, and I was able to secure an entry-level professorship position before we had even arrived in town.

We bought land just outside of town and had a house built, as had become our custom, and the three of us settled into the Scottish life. Lucy finished her medical schooling and internship in Portland and found employment as a pediatrician in a local practice. She was a natural with children, she was perfectly comfortable being on call 24 hours a day, and she got to completely avoid the emergency room, the operating room, and any other room involving blood. It was as close to a perfect job for her as could be found.

Harvey still spent a good deal of time working "off the books" for the British military, traveling frequently to Vietnam, where war was continuing to rage on. He did help me out more at the mortuary, though, and I needed it. The longer I taught at the university, the more classes the academic dean wanted to give me. By my third year, I was teaching seven different classes in the science department, as well as being intricately involved in two separate research projects. I enjoyed the business, though. It helped keep my mind off of Coraline, which was a priority if I hoped to retain any resemblance of sanity.

We met again in 1966 outside of Sydney, Australia, and then another 5 years passed before I could see her face. I can't even describe how depressing that fact was. Before my next visit, it was time to relocate yet again. We debated the topic of where to live for a long time, and ultimately decided to stay nearby. My family and I were all natives of the relative area, and there was something so... comfortable about being so close to home. We didn't want to go far, but we had a long list of qualifications for a suitable town, so we ended up in Edinburgh. The University of Edinburgh was almost as prestigious a school as the one in Glasgow, and with another polished resume, I was able to secure a tenured position there. That's when Harvey approached me with a terrific (and much-needed) idea.

Running a full-scale mortuary service while simultaneously teaching at one of the top universities in the country was stretching me thin, even for a man who didn't sleep. Since teaching was my real passion, my brother encouraged me to relinquish the mortuary administration completely to hired individuals and focus my energy on the university. I had time to continue my own education, invest in my family and friends, and give my students the best instruction money could buy.

In 1971, I was able to see Coraline again, this time in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. We had two fun-filled days together, water-skiing, skydiving (Havana-style), and of course, kissing. Neither of us was wholly satisfied with the status of the relationship and the restrictions that came with it, but we were both willing to make an exception to the rules for kissing.

Back in Edinburgh, life continued to carry on much the same as it had before, but with minor evolutions. Harvey still spent a lot of time with the British military in Vietnam, but with the administration of the mortuary in human hands, he now had the freedom to pursue another interest of his – music. Harvey was the one who got all the musical genes in the family, and with his vampire-enhanced skills, he turned out to be quite the rock-band musician. He found a couple other local musicians, and formed his first band, the "White Wizards."

The White Wizards was a pioneering rock and roll band, performing in local pubs and eventually in small weekend concert venues. Their music sounded a bit bizarre to an old fogie like me, but the young people liked it – especially the female ones. By the end of their first year as a band, the White Wizards had a very dedicated following of teenage girls, most of whom were infatuated with "Biffy Tanner," Harvey's bass-playing, lead-singing stage persona (complete with a flowing blond wig). Lucy and I came to all his concerts, and though the style was a bit abrasive to my ears, I was quite glad to see him doing something that he enjoyed.

I saw Coraline again in 1973, traveling to Anchorage, Alaska, where a coven of several of Jasper's friends still lived. I had initially planned to spend a few extra days with the family of vampires there after my visit with Coraline, but those girls were still uncomfortably forward, so I politely excused myself after one day.

My time with Coraline was cut short by an unexpected business call, but we made plans to meet again six weeks later for a day and a half in Atlanta, Georgia. Of course, that never happened. I actually went to Atlanta and waited for her there, oblivious to the fact that her life was in danger back in Italy. When I returned home and heard the news, I was shocked and deeply concerned. My initial reaction was to fly over there immediately and do what I could to protect her. Fortunately, Harvey and Lucy were able to talk some sense into me, and I restrained myself.

The Volturi were engaged in a recurrence of the India War for over two years, during which time everything in Volterra was locked down so tightly that I couldn't even get a letter in to Coraline. It was absolutely dreadful. Ever since our relationship had been reconnected through letters (and especially after our weekend in New York), we had been in regular, ongoing communication, often two or three times a week, including phone calls. To suddenly go from all that to absolutely nothing was more difficult than words could express. I took it rather hard.

During those two years of separation, I leaned more heavily on all my other relationships, especially Jasper. We talked frequently – like in the old days – and he was able to help me work through my feelings of loneliness, even without his mood-altering ability. He and his mate, Alice, were attending high school in the United States as a cover story for their family, which meant they had the summer totally free. Since I was in a low place to begin with, and we hadn't seen each other in a while, they both decided to come and spend the summer with us in Edinburgh.

I loved my family very much, but there was just something fun about having more people around. We played lots of games, went to lots of concerts, and basically kept busy enough to inhibit the profound loneliness that haunted me incessantly. Alice, like Harriet, was very fond of fashion, and while the three men of the group were out having fun, she and Lucy were cooking up a new business. Lucy came from a long line of clothiers, and, as I came to find out, she had quite a knack for creating fashionable clothing. With a little stylistic help from Alice, she hand-made an entire spring fashion line, complete with hats, shoes and purses. All in all, it was a great diversion having Jasper and Alice around, but it was still no substitute for time with Coraline. Fortunately, it wasn't that far off.

I got my first call from Coraline in April 1976, and my life officially resumed after two years in hiatus. I went to Seville, Spain that fall, spending all of three hours in a dark, musty cellar roughly the size of a pickup truck bed. I had to sneak in two hours in advance, and we couldn't talk above a whisper while she was there, for fear of the associates who were traveling with her. It was all very cloak-and-dagger, which was simultaneously exciting and frustrating. I didn't mind all that much, though. I was just glad to see her.

Things were much better in the visitation department once the second India War was over. Coraline worked as a personal assistant to Philippe, which, though I disliked the thought of it, provided her with numerous opportunities to sneak away and meet me. We saw each other twice in the next nine months, meeting in Tel Aviv, Israel, and Toronto, Canada. I so enjoyed my stay in Toronto that I made an appeal to the family to relocate there. They went along with the idea, and we all moved back across the Atlantic, settling down just a two-hour's drive from the Cullens, who lived near a large wildlife reserve in northwestern New York.

The next two years saw marked acceleration in my relationship with Coraline, as we were able to see each other more often. I saw her four times in 1978 alone, meeting up in Bern, Switzerland, Bordeaux, France, Warsaw, Poland, and Sao Paolo, Brazil. By our June rendezvous in Amsterdam, things were on a very good track – at least, from my perspective. The talking was still very good, but we could talk on the phone. When we saw each other, all we seemed to do was kiss. And hug. And, well, just about everything imaginable short of sexual interaction. The tension was so strong at times, that I thought I would surely break and take things all the way with her, but I somehow managed to retain enough will power to prevent that. It wasn't that I didn't want to make love to her – I'm not sure a sentient being could want anything more – it was just my desire to make things real. I didn't want the ultimate physical expression of our love to be tainted by the relational ambiguity and emotional fence-making that kept our hearts at arm's-length. I wanted something more from her, something substantial, and I had the feeling she was finally ready for it.

There was a trip on the calendar for September – another weekend in New York. It was the perfect opportunity to take things to the next level with Coraline, so I did my research and made my plans. I was going to make it a weekend she would never forget.


	10. Chapter 10:  Grant

_Author's Note: Chapter 10 is meant to be printed & read in _  
><em>parallel columns, which is not possible in the FanFiction format. <em>  
><em>Instead, I've posted Grant's telling of the story first, followed by Coraline's account. <em>  
><em>If you would like to read the chapter in the format it was intended to be seen in, <em>  
><em>you can viewdownload the free .pdf version from my site:_

sites-d.o.t.-google-d.o.t.-com/site/allotropebook/

10. NEW YORK: TAKE 2 (Grant's version)

- - - GRANT WILLOUGHBY - - -

I was nearly bursting with excitement merely looking at it. Not that it was inherently beautiful, but it represented something very beautiful... and exciting.

"Grant, if you stare at that thing any longer, you'll go blind. I swear, it's still gonna look the same if you put it away and come watch the rest of the game with me."

My brother was a great friend, and he had a point, but he didn't understand. I had been working for 35 years to get to this point. I just wanted to soak in the moment a little.

"That's okay. I'm fine right here," I responded without looking up.

"Seriously – you're like Gollum. 'My own... my Precious!'"

"That's a disgustingly poor analogy. I'm nothing like him."

"Okay, look – it's a beautiful ring. Lucy thinks so, Alice thinks so... even _I _think so, I guess. I get it, and I get that you're excited about Friday, but it's _opening weekend_ and the Cowboys are down by less than a field goal. At least watch the fourth quarter..."

"I can hear the game from out here."

"It's no fun watching the game by myself. Lucy doesn't have a clue what's going on, and nobody else in town even knows what football is. C'mon, I need you. Don't go all mushy on me."

"Okay," I sighed, delicately closing the velvet-lined case in my hand. "It_ is_ opening weekend..."

I had been spending a lot of

time looking at that ring lately – almost as much time as I had spent thinking of how to present it. I never was much of a diamond-ring fan (or a fan of diamonds in general, for that matter), so I was understandably uncertain about making as significant a diamond purchase as this. Fortunately, I had a lot of friends in the area.

When I told Lucy that I was going to take a trip to New York City to shop for a ring at Tiffany's, she asked if I wanted any help picking one out, and I jumped at the idea. Ten minutes later, I received a call from Jasper and the rest of the Cullens, wanting to know all about my thoughts and plans, and where the ladies should meet up with us in New York.

_So much for keeping a small circle._

What started in my head as a simple in-and-out trip became a group shopping intervention, with Lucy, Alice, Esme and Rosalie roaming around the Tiffany's showroom like a flock of hummingbirds on caffeine, eager to help me find 'the one.' I'm not sure if it was_ that_ one, but the ring I walked out of the store with was enough to make all four of my advisors jealous, so I was confident I had chosen wisely. I had to have the very best. After all, this wasn't just another piece of jewelry – this was a symbol of my unending love and devotion.

I put the little box in my pocket and smiled, as I followed my brother back into the house. I couldn't help smiling. In just five more days, I was going to ask Coraline Gray to marry me.

My drive to New York was much shorter this time, and against my better judgment, I made the trip early, arriving in town several hours before Coraline's plane landed. I knew I would just end up trying to find things to occupy my time while I waited, which would make the waiting seem worse, but I couldn't help it – I was eager to get there.

Coraline had made it clear that she wanted to be the one to plan the weekend's activities this time around, which took some getting used to for me. I trusted her completely, but I couldn't completely shut out the planner in me, so I ended up picking up tickets to a few shows and events over the weekend, just in case we ended up needing them. Of course, I didn't really need any activities to have a good time there with Coraline, but she seemed intent on showing me a good time, so I went along with it.

The last time I had met Coraline in New York, I brought my '57 Corvette with me. This time, I had a slightly newer model. I wavered considerably trying to decide which car to bring to the city. There was the nostalgic pick – my '57 'Vette, still in pristine condition. Then, there was my brand new '79 model, including an after-market engine completely redesigned by Rosalie Hale. I also had two Mustangs, a Porsche 911 and a Mini Cooper imported from England, but none of those had the pop I was looking for. This weekend was special – it deserved the very best. My 1969 Camaro SS.

Normally, I would have considered myself a Corvette guy. I had a representative car from each of the three major model styles, and I loved each of them. There was something special about my Camaro, though. With the clout that comes with being a major stockholder in the company, I was able to secure a rare, racing-inspired engine in my 1969 model. Only 69 of them were ever produced, making it one of the most collectible American cars of the decade. Without any tweaking at all, it was capable of producing 550 horsepower. After I let Rosalie work with it, the car could go 0-60 miles-per-hour in a little over 4 seconds without any help from me, other than pressure on the gas pedal. It was fast. It was also pretty – cherry red with white racing stripes. Red and white interior, just like my '57 Corvette. A customized, completely removable hard-shell top. It was a masterpiece of engineering. I had every imaginable upgrade and feature installed, everything needed to make it my romantic carriage for the weekend. All I needed was a princess, and she would be arriving at any moment.

I waited impatiently at the terminal for Coraline's plane to land, growing excited every time another aircraft entered my line of sight. Each time I would crane my neck to try and read the identification number on the tail of the plane. I know, it was a little sappy, but I was dying to see her. Fortunately, her flight was a little ahead of time, and I watched in anticipation as it made a safe landing and taxied up to the jet bridge. One by one, the human passengers stepped out of the tunnel – mothers with small children, businessmen returning from a work trip, European families on holiday...

And then I saw her.

She moved through the walkway with the grace of a butterfly, floating, as if weightless, over toward me with a widening smile. Immediately, the room was filled with the scent of lilac and honeysuckle, along with a hundred other aromas that have no human analogy. Her feathered hair danced with each step, swaying like cherry blossoms in a gentle breeze. I'm sure her outfit was quite stunning as well, but I hardly noticed it – I was utterly captivated by her face, which was, in a word, perfect. The sweeping lines of her chin, the gentle slopes of her lips, the growing curves bending the sides of her mouth into a reluctant smile... and then I got to her eyes. There was something different about them – besides the obvious fact that she wasn't wearing sunglasses. I could have sworn their hue was different, and they seemed to sparkle more than I was used to – which was a noticeable change, given the amount of time I spent looking at them over the years.

I might have figured it out sooner, but she came within arm's-reach, and my musing was interrupted by the rapturous feeling of her body next to mine. I held her tightly, soaking in the feel and smell of her closeness like the morning sun. Just being near her brought a lift to my spirits, sweeter than a mother's touch, more exciting than an overtime touchdown. I was deeply in love.

After a few moments, we pulled back to arm's length, at which time we would normally kiss. On this occasion, though, my mind was too preoccupied for proper kissing. I had to know what the story was with those eyes.

"Okay – what have you done to your eyes?"

_Oops. That didn't sound quite the way I meant it..._

"Umm,,,"

"I mean, uh... they look different – b-but not... in a _bad_ way... different in a good way. Did you..."

"Did I _what_?

She smiled and raised her eyebrows playfully in response. _Good. So I didn't offend her.._.

"Your eyes look much more... natural," I said, still trying to solve the puzzle. And then it hit me. "Wait – you've been drinking something different, haven't you?"

It had to be. At least, I hoped it was a change in diet. Coraline could abstain from killing if she put her mind to it – I knew she had it in her.

"I've been hunting-free for twelve weeks now. Are you proud?"

"Are you kidding? I'm ecstatic! How in the world?"

"I met a girl in Rome – a nurse – who works at a hospital there taking blood from donors. She's been setting the good stuff aside and selling it to me under the table. It's great – she keeps it on ice for me, and I come pick it up once a week. Grant, I swear – when you heat it up, it tastes _almost_ real. I mean, it's real, but... well, you know. It's good. I'm really happy about it."

Coraline had been sustaining herself for the past 20 years or so by scavenging leftover blood from the victims of other vampires. She often talked about how difficult it was to find at times, and how she loathed the experience every single time. This was great news.

"You know, that's a great idea. I can't believe I've never tried that myself."

"I can't take the credit, actually. It was Harriet's idea. She and Wesley have been doing that for over a year."

"And you said you've been drinking this way for twelve weeks? That means-"

"Yep. I started it before the Amsterdam visit."

"So, your eyes took a while to begin changing color, then."

"No, they started changing in the first week."

"That's impossible. I would have noticed."

I knew her face better than I knew my own. There was no way I would miss one single detail. I looked back into my memory of that last trip, but I couldn't remember ever taking note of her eyes at all.

"Don't worry about it," she said dismissively. "You noticed now. So, what do you think of my new look?"

I took a moment to collect my thoughts before replying, inspecting her eyes closely. They had a much purer brown look to them now, rather than the dull brownish-red I was accustomed to, and when the light caught them just right, I could see the tiniest flecks of green, reflecting like emeralds against a walnut-brown backdrop. It was astounding – I never knew perfection could be improved upon until that moment.

"You look stunning. In fact... they're even prettier than before, if such a thing were possible."

She looked relieved, as if she had feared I might not like her 'new look,' which was completely absurd. There was no way possible she could be anything below stunning.

"You don't know how relieving it is to hear you say that."

"Well, then, I'll say it again. You look beautiful. Exquisite. Divine. Ravishing."

I could have gone on for hours, but I knew how easily she tired of compliments. I would just have to save them for my internal monologue.

The two of us stopped by the luggage return to pick up her suitcase, and we went outside to get into my car, only to find that it had been towed. Apparently I had parked it in an improper zone, and it was therefore carried away, awaiting my arrival with a load of cash to bail it out of the police impound lot.

It was a disaster.

We were reduced to riding in a taxi, but at least we didn't have to walk to the hotel. As a side-benefit, I had the opportunity to look at her the entire time we were being transported, which was in itself an enjoyable experience. I couldn't stop looking at her eyes, but I didn't want to just sit there silently gawking, so I brought them up in conversation.

"So, about your eyes – and your feeding process – you said Harriet and Wesley have been doing this even longer than you have. I assume their eyes have changed too..."

_I wonder... does her color now have anything to do with her eyes as a human? After all, mine were minutely different from Harvey's and Lucy's..._

"Uh, yeah... they've changed too. Harriet's are a lighter brown than mine, closer to her color before the change. And Wesley's are so dark they're almost black. It's really hard to tell when he's thirsty or full."

"That's fascinating. I was just thinking, I wonder if one's natural color before the transformation impacts how the eyes respond to the vampire coloration. For example, my eyes were brown before the change, and since I've been drinking older blood, they've been strictly brown, albeit with the slightest red tint if you look hard enough. Harvey, though – his eyes were hazel, like my mother's. I can faintly detect flecks of gold and dark green in his. And then, Lucy's are solid brown, but a little lighter than mine, which correlates with her human color. So, if my theory is correct, then that would mean that your eyes would have been green before the change. Am I right?"

"Um... sorry, what?"

"Were your human eyes green?"

_She's so beautiful..._

_Seriously. She's an angel. Except, angels don't marry, so..._

"Yeah. Sort-of. It depended on what I wore. Sometimes they looked more blue, but I think most people would have called them green."

"I figured as much, given the hint of green in your eyes right now. It's a shame that something as unique as eye color is lost in the transformation. I would give anything to see your human self. You must have been such a beautiful girl."

"I told you, I was totally plain."

"You're too hard on yourself. Vampirism doesn't make that big a difference. It only adds polish to the material it has to work with. I'm sure you were lovely."

The cab pulled up in front of the hotel, effectively ending the conversation as we paid the driver and stepped inside to check into our room. That's when the evening's plans took another unexpected turn.

"What do you mean_, 'not available?'" _

_Oh dear._

Coraline was instantly livid. Apparently, they had given away our room.

Not good.

"I'm terribly sorry, miss Gray," the young hostess said politely. "The Swedish ambassador has been delayed returning to his country, and we've been asked to provide him with a room befitting his position. Since you didn't arrive to check in at your scheduled time, policy dictated that we make the necessary alterations to your reservation. We do have a third-floor room available that we can move you into, if you prefer. And of course, we'll refund the difference in price."

I placed my hand gently on Coraline's shoulder, hoping to convey some sense of calm. After all, it was just a hotel room. It really wasn't that big a deal.

"Actually, miss, we were rather set on having a larger room," I said, stepping into the conversation. "Is there another hotel nearby you could refer us to?"

The hostess was kind enough to make a few calls, and, as it turned out, there was another hotel just a quarter-mile down the road that had an appropriate room available. We decided to walk to it, and in just a few minutes, we were checked in and headed up to a room we would probably use only to change clothes.

Problem solved.

We got settled into the room and had a look around. It was large and well-appointed; the bathroom itself was larger than most hotel rooms.

I came over behind Coraline, who was standing in front of the window, and gently wrapped my arms around her, peering out into the illuminated night sky.

Coraline suddenly remembered that we left something at the airport, and she seemed a little concerned about it.

"What was it? Did you have two bags?" _We just got here. Don't tell me we've got to go back._

She kissed me. _Nice._

I returned her flirty little peck with a real kiss, which was meant to only last a second or two. Of course, when did that ever really happen anymore?

As soon as our lips touched a second time, we were hooked, drawn to each other's bodies with an irresistible force. While my mouth continued to kiss hers, my hands began to wander a bit further than they probably should have. I couldn't help it – sometimes my head thought one thing and my body did another. Her draw was often so strong that I found myself doing all sorts of things I hadn't planned on.

Before long, I found myself holding her, as her silken thighs wrapped around me. I ran my hands up them gently, delighting in their smooth, toned perfection.

Things continued to progress at a steady pace, and before long, I was on top of her at the back of the bed, hands tangled in her hair as my lips explored her chest as far as the neckline of her dress would allow.

_If only... maybe... maybe I'll just propose to her now. That's it – I'll ask her to marry me, she'll say yes, and we'll make sweet love to each other in response..._

_Not yet, Grant,_ I told myself, urging my body to retain some degree of self-control. _Stay in control. This is not how you want this to happen. Wait for the right time, and it will be infinitely more rewarding_. I had to keep repeating the message over and over, but eventually, it worked.

"You're really quite the seductress, you know?" I said, as I pushed myself up off of her body and looked once again into those beautiful eyes.

"Me?_ You're_ the one who went all 'soap opera' on me. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to 'steal my virtue.'"

"I hope you know that I had no intention of doing anything of the sort. I respect you far too much to ever-"

"Hey – relax. It was a joke. I know how you feel."

"Good. Well, then, what's next on the surprise agenda?"

"Oh no, what time is it?"

"Um... seven fifty-four," I said, glancing down at my wristwatch. Coraline seemed panicked. "Is that bad?"

Judging by her mannerisms, I knew the answer to that question. We were late for something. We rushed out of the room like it was on fire, taking the stairs to the ground floor and speed-walking to the curb.

Whatever it was that Coraline was trying to get to, she was certainly up-tight about being there on time. It took us all of two minutes to get a taxi to stop for us, but you would have thought it was two hours, the way she was acting, pacing back and forth and glancing at my watch every fifteen seconds. Apparently we had lost more time in the hotel-swap than I realized.

Coraline was speaking so quickly when she gave the driver directions that I was quite sure he didn't understand a single word. I took it upon myself to translate.

"Sir, if you would please take us to the Lincoln Center, we would greatly appreciate it."

"Sure thing, pal," he replied as he casually put the vehicle into gear. I could tell his nonchalance bothered Coraline. She looked like she was ready to implode. _I certainly hope we didn't need to be there by 8._

The traffic moved slowly through downtown Manhattan, and we ended up being terribly late to our destination, where the ballet was performing. At one point, I suggested paying the driver and getting out to travel on foot, but Coraline was afraid that if we did, she would end up running too fast and causing a major scene. She was probably right about that.

"It's alright," I said, consoling her as we stood outside the performance hall.

"We can see them perform another day. It's not like there's any shortage of things to do in the city,"

"I know there's other stuff to do, but I planned this just for you. I know how much you enjoy dance, and... it's just... everything's going wrong tonight. I am _so_ frustrated."

She didn't seem very consoled. _Oh well, it was worth a try. Hope she doesn't feel like this all night..._

"I appreciate the thought, but honestly, it's alright. I don't really care what we're doing, as long as we're together."

"Well that's good, 'cause now I don't have anything to do for the next two hours."

"Would you be up for a change of plans?"

"Sure. What do you have in mind?"

"There's a new Broadway show debuting in two weeks – 'Evita.' I pulled some strings and got a pass to sit in on the dress rehearsal tonight. That is, if you'd be interested..."

"I've never seen a Broadway show before... it sounds like fun. Can we make it there in time?"

She liked the idea. There was still hope for a good night.

"Sure. We may want to take the subway, though."

The subway was a much better route, though I did have to put in a little work inhibiting my hunting instincts alongside Coraline's. There was a young lady in the same rail car that smelled unusually enticing, and it took a good deal of concentration to put off the smell. I ended up spending all my effort blocking it for Coraline, while my own throat burned like I had just ingested a phosphorous grenade. I did my job well, though. She never noticed a thing.

Fortunately, the spacious auditorium we watched Evita in was full of mostly-clean air, and I was able to settle down the hunting instinct and enjoy the show.

Once the show was over, we started walking to our next destination, which was actually rather close by. Coraline seemed much more relaxed, now that her emotions had a chance to return to normal, and I had hope, once again, that a proposal that evening would be possible. All I had to do was find the right time and place to make my appeal.

She took me up to the flat rooftop of a tall building near Central Park, making me close my eyes until we were outside. The entire span of floorspace had been converted into a lush garden, complete with a little fountain that gurgled gently in the background. Near the center of the roof was a wrought iron love seat, where we went to sit for a while, gazing at the brilliant city lights around us. _Hmm... this place might do..._

"So... what do you think?" I asked, watching closely to read his reaction.

"It's great, Coraline. It smells magnificent up here, and the view... you've outdone yourself. Thank you."

"Just wait – you haven't seen the best part yet."

We sat there and talked for a few minutes before the "best part" arrived. I heard the steel door behind us open, and through it stepped a young man in a tuxedo, carrying a silver tray in one hand. I didn't know what his purpose was in being there, but I hoped he would leave as soon as possible. The smell of his blood was so powerful it was nearly overwhelming. _What is wrong with me tonight?_

The man walked up to us and set down his tray, opening the gilded lid to reveal 2 wine glasses filled with red liquid.

_Aha! Well, that explains it_.

The sudden rush of aroma nearly drove me mad with craving. It was all I could do to keep from drinking both glasses on the spot.

Coraline asked the waiter to bring up the rest of our supply before dismissing him. I tore my attention away from the crystal glass just long enough to make eye contact with her. She had that slightly anxious smile, as if she was really looking forward to my reaction. If it tasted as good as it smelled, I wouldn't disappoint.

I brought the glass to my mouth, and poured liquid sunshine down my throat. It was beyond magnificent. _Coraline, you are a genius!_

"What on earth is this, and where can I get more?"

Whatever it was, it tasted like blood, only much richer and more... satisfying. The consistency was thicker than I was accustomed to – almost like a thin syrup, but it still went down smoothly and easily.

"What you just had was B negative. Like it?"

"_Like_ it? It's a divine revelation of taste. I've never had anything that... that... there's not even a word for it.."

"Good. Well, B-negative is my favorite. I like AB-negative, too – actually, all the negatives are good. There's just something in the rh-positive blood that leaves an aftertaste."

"There_ is _more coming, right?"

"I've got gallons."

"You just became my new favorite person."

"I thought I was already your favorite person."

"Well... you've further solidified your position, then."

"Good. I'm very glad you liked it."

The waiter returned with the rest of our stockpile of designer-blood, and we finished off the entire supply, taking time to talk about all sorts of things as we did. By the time we were ready to leave, it was nearing 4am.

_Not much time left in the evening, Grant. You'd better make your move soon..._

"So..." we both started at the same time.

Awkward.

"Um... you go first."

"No, ladies first. I insist."

"That's alright, it wasn't important anyway. I wanna hear what you have to say."

"Well, alright. I know you've got this whole weekend planned out, and I don't want to do anything to throw off your schedule, so, just tell me if that's the case, but, I was wondering... you remember that bridge that we went to the last time we were here – would you be open to swinging by there for a few moments, just for old time's sake?" _And so I can propose to you..._

"Um – sure. Yeah. We can do that. Do you... wanna-"

"Walk. If that's alright..."

"Sure."

We did our own covert walking, running through the subway tunnels when there weren't rail cars in the way, and made it to the bridge in under 15 minutes. It was a good thing, too. We only had about an hour and a half before sunrise.

I reached into my pocket, twirling the little velvet box in my fingers as I mustered the courage to present my offer. _It's now or never, Willoughby. Go get your girl._

"This is still my favorite view of the city"

"It does have a vulnerability to it, doesn't it?" I replied, as I sat beside her.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, cities like this, they seem so much larger than life – at least to the outsider. Views like this are like Dorothy peeking behind the curtain. You see that it's a real place with real people. Like... for example, take that house over there." I pointed out one of the many living establishments off the coast of the river.

"There's probably a couple that lives there. They eat, they sleep – in fact they're probably sleeping now."

"That would be nice for a change, wouldn't it? Sleep."

"It would. They're normal, though. You know what I mean? They probably take their children to the bus stop and go to church on the weekends. Just... normal."

"If only,"

She seemed to be uncomfortable for some reason. _Does she know what I'm planning? Maybe she's just anxious about the weekend..._

"Think about it, though. The man of the house is probably about my age. He works a simple job – maybe as a salesman at a furniture store, or maybe an accountant, or an algebra teacher."

"And what about the wife? Is she just a stay-at-home mom? Barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen?"

Coraline was a pretty independent woman, the kind that bristled at the mention of stereotypical matronly roles.

"Only if she wants to be. The husband understands her desires for a career, but she may just want to make raising children her career, which would be a worthwhile task."

"Not if the children are brats."

"They wouldn't be. They've got a four year old son... and a two year old daughter. Every night they read them fairytales and tuck them into bed."

"Yeah, they have the life, huh? Too bad for us."

"They have things that we don't have – breath, hunger, fatigue... freedom, peace. But the most important thing they have is something we can have too."

"Love."

_What are you doing, Grant?_

After our last rendezvous in New York, we set some ground rules for our relationship. One of the foremost boundaries was the "L" word, as we called it. Coraline made me promise not to say it until we could be together, which was frustrating, but I went along with it. She knew I loved her, just as I knew she loved me. Well, I mostly knew...

Okay, I knew. I still wanted to say it, though.

"Grant-"

"I bought a house," I interrupted, letting my nerves drive the pace of my delivery too fast. "In Tuscany, far off the beaten path on a two-hundred acre farm."

"What? Why would you-"

"We could live there – well..._ I_ could live there. You could come and visit anytime you got free time. It's less than an hour's run from Volterra."

"Oh my god, Grant. Are you serious?"

"Quite."

"No! No... you need to just... forget that you ever even thought about that."

"Why not? Aren't you tired of us being separated like this? I know you feel the same way I do about it..."

"Grant, they will find you and kill you. It's way too risky."

She still needed convincing. Fortunately, I had given it a lot of thought.

"It's been thirty-five years. I think they're done searching for me. Besides, I would never need to go near Volterra – you could come to visit me there, just like you sneak out to talk on the phone."

"What if somebody followed me? Grant, you're not thinking this through. If they found you-"

_Ugh! Coraline... why are you still fighting this?_

"It's the same risk we take every time we visit. What if someone followed you here, or to Amsterdam? It's the same."

"It's not the same. These visit are planned carefully, there are lots of precautions."

"Then I'll take precautions. I'll be smart and safe, I swear. I'll be anything you need me to be, just say yes."

She looked pained, almost desperate. _This is not the way to propose, Grant._

"You won't, Grant. If you're that close, you won't. You'll slip up eventually. It just... it can't work."

"It has to. I need to be with you."

"You can, Grant. I only have fifteen-"

"No."

"Fifteen more years-"

"That's too long."

Fifteen years was an eternity living away from the one you love. I couldn't take it. Besides that, I didn't trust the Volturi to just let her go.

"I'll be totally free. We can go, and live anywhere you want. You can buy me the little house on the hill, and we'll be happy there."

"Don't you understand? I nearly die every time you step back onto that plane. It's practically tearing my heart in two – being apart from you like this. We have to be together. Coraline, I lo-"

"Grant! Stop. Don't go there."

"Oh, why not? You know it's true as well as I do."

"You promised, Grant."

"Well, I lied."

"Please. Don't."

"It's true."

"I don't want to go th-"

"I don't_ care _where you want to g-"

"It's not tim-"

"I'm making the time-"

"Grant, I don't-"

"I love you, dammit! I _love_ you."

There was silence for a moment. I shouldn't have pushed it, but it was too late for that now.

"You are the reason I want to go to work every morning, the reason I have hope at the end of every day, hope that I can talk to you, hope that we can schedule a visit. You're the reason I care at all what happens to me, the reason I'm willing to keep living this frozen life this way. Coraline, I love you with every ounce of my being. I love Harvey and Lucy, too, but not like you. You are the single most important thing in my entire existence. I love you."

There was silence again as the words settled. As soon as I had said them, I wanted to take them back. Not because they weren't true, but because it's not how I wanted them to be said. I was out of options, though. I had to convince her.

"If you... love me, you'll wait for me."

"If _you_ love _me_, then you'll do whatever it takes to be with me."

It was low, I know... but it was all I had.

"Grant, it has nothing to do with that. I l- … I _care about_ you too much to put you in danger."

"You're just afraid. You're afraid that somehow, you might actually be happy, and then you wouldn't know what to do with yourself."

"That's ridiculous. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't I? First it's excuses in Malmedy, then in New York and Venezuela... I think you just don't know how to be happy."

She snapped back, more fiercely than I had seen her act in a long time. _Maybe I took it a little too far..._

"You have no idea what I've been through. I have put what I want last for my whole damn life. I have given away so much for you, and all you can say is 'you don't know how to be happy?'"

_Maybe it's time to drop the subject._

"Coraline... the house in Tuscany can work. Just... think about it."

"I will. On the plane."

"What?" _Oh no... what have I done?_

"I need some space from you right now. I'm going back home."

"No, wait – look, I'm sorry-"

She stood up. "I'm sorry, too. This was all a bad idea," I said, standing up. "I'll call you when I get back to Volterra. Maybe by then we can both be calm enough to talk about this like adults."

_She's serious. Grant, you fool! Way to completely ruin everything!_

"Don't go. I'm sorry, I'll-"

"Goodbye."

She got up and left me, just like that. I would have chased after her, but she made it pretty clear that she didn't want to talk to me. So I sat there alone, as our conversation played itself over and over again in my head.

_This isn't how it was supposed to go_, I thought to myself, as her pained expression played again in my head._ How did you make such a mess of things? Stupid boy._

I pulled out the ring, opening the case and looking again at how beautiful it was. Even in the darkness of the night, it shimmered like a star. _What did you really think, Grant? That she would wear_ _this around Volterra? That she would be your fairytale housewife? Grow up. Recognize the real world. Marrying her is a fool's dream._

I clenched the box in my fist, frustration growing in my body like floodwaters behind a dam, and with a growling shout, I threw it into the river below. _Won't be needing that anytime soon._

I thought about a lot of things for the next few minutes, as I sat there on the bridge. In many ways, I came to my senses. Even if I did feel that I was right, to pressure Coraline into my way was wrong. I had been an ass to her, and she deserved an apology.

_Maybe she'll at least hear that. _

I got up and glanced at my watch: _5:41. Less than an hour_ _until dawn. Better get moving if you're going to catch her._

I went back to the subway tunnels, which were much busier by this time in the morning, and raced in between them to get back to the hotel. I had given her a twenty-minute head start – I had to push harder to make up for some of that time.

I came through the subway as fast as possible, and got to the lobby of our hotel with about 35 minutes of daylight to spare. _Hopefully she hasn't left for the airport yet..._

I slowed my pace as I walked into the lobby, so as not to draw unnecessary attention to myself.

It was a mistake.

"Mr. Willoughby?" the receptionist said as I passed by, stepping out from behind the counter to get my attention.

I sighed deeply, though quietly enough to avoid her detection.

"Yes?"  
>"I have a message here for you – a telephone call."<p>

_Probably Harvey wanting to know how the weekend is going._

She handed the folded paper to me and I quickly shoved it in my pocket as I rushed to the stairs.

"Thank you." _Stupid customer service..._

I raced up the stairs far too quickly for plausible human explanation, and stepped onto the hall a few doors down from the room. I could smell her – she was still there.

"Coraline, you don't have to do this," I said, as I walked through the doorway, stopping about six feet from her.

"Grant, I don't want to be mean about this, I don't... just let me go, alright?"

"I'm sorry, truly... I shouldn't have pushed you-"

"It's fine. Just... I need space, okay?"

"But we're already here, and we've got the rest of the weekend. At least stay in town. I'll give you all day, and we can spend time together again ton-"

"I... need more time than that." _Oh, dear._

"How much... time?"

"More than the weekend. Just go, Grant. I'll call you."

"Hey – are we alright?" I asked, stepping forward slowly. "I _am_ sorry about what I said – I was totally out of line, and I understand if it hurt you. I hope you know that... well, I care about you. I never want to hurt you in any way..."

She wasn't paying attention.

"Coraline? Are you alr-"

"Shh!" I said, flashing over

She cut me off mid-sentence, running to the window. Something was terribly wrong.

"... oh my god..."

"What? What is it?"

She slowly backed away from the window, a look of panic on her face.

"Who's here?"

"Philippe. He's here."

"What? How did he-"

"You have to run. Now," I

This was bad. We weren't prepared for anything like this.

"No. Come with me."

"He already knows I'm here. That's why he came. You have to get out of here. Get out of the building."

_You know, I'm tired of running from this guy. Maybe I need to stand my ground..._

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm not afraid of him."

"He's not alone, Grant. He's got at least two others with him, and I'll bet he's got another two coming in the back door right now. You have to get out of here. I'll hold them up."

"I'll be fine. Now, go!"

I knew what sort of man Philippe was. I didn't want to leave Coraline alone with him. There was no telling what he would do.

"I won't leave you."

"Go. Please..."

Her eyes were intense – pleading. If she was right, I'd be outnumbered five to one. Even with my skills, those were impossible odds.

"I love you."

I bolted out of the room, heading toward the stairs, but before I even reached the door, I smelled them. Two different scents. _Damn. The stairs are taken._ I turned next to the elevator, but it, too, was occupied. I was trapped. In a last-ditch effort, I ran down the hall, stifling my scent and listening for a room with no heartbeats inside. I was in luck – there was one without occupants. I quickly picked the lock and slipped inside, not ten seconds before I heard barely-audible footsteps near the staircase.

I hid myself in the closet and listened in to hear what was going on. If he started to get violent, I would bust through those walls and rip him in half.

"Where is he?" a low male voice demanded. The accent was obviously French.

_Philippe._

"What in the hell are you doing here?" she responded.

_That's my girl. Stand up for yourself._

I kept eavesdropping on their conversation as I searched for the scents of any other vampires.

There were three other distinct smells on the floor –all different from the two in the stairwell. I couldn't tell if they were inside or outside Coraline's room.

_What's he doing? I swear, if he even_ touches_ her..._

I pushed back even harder against my scent, making sure there was nothing escaping at all. _Grant, you fool! You should be miles away from here. You and Coraline both._

Coraline was lying to try and cover her tracks, but I could tell she was shaken, just by the tone of her voice. I could also tell that Philippe didn't believe her.

_Come on, Coraline, I know you're a good liar. Use it for something positive._

_Oh, no – he knows too much. What am I going to do? I can't just leave her in there with him..._

I began to think through possible rescue scenarios, in case she wasn't able to talk herself out of this. It had been a long time since I had been forced to resort to violence against vampires, but I still remembered everything Jasper and Hawkins had taught me about fighting. One-on-one, I didn't fear anyone – except, maybe, Jasper and Hawkins. With my special abilities, I could reasonably take on a double-team and make it out alive. This was three against one, though, not to mention the other two guys in the stairwell. I needed a plan if I was going to survive.

I took a pause from planning to go back to listening in...

"There's a guy I met in... Venezuela. While I was on vacation. We talked, we hung out-"

"And what – you're just stringing him along?"

"No... he has a friend,"

_A friend? Who? Where is this going, Coraline? I hope you're not pulling anyone else into this..._

"She can see the future. I mean, not the whole future, but important events..."

_No. Alice? Coraline, honestly... Alice and Jasper are happily married, free from any of the mess we're living in. We shouldn't get them involved..._

I couldn't really fault her, she was doing the best she could. I didn't want any other friends suffering on my account, though, especially Jasper and Alice. And then I had a revelation.

_That message the receptionist gave me – it couldn't have been from Harvey. He'd think we were still at the Waldorf. It might have been Alice, though..._

My heart sank. Alice new how important this weekend was for me. She would only have interrupted it in the event of an emergency. I opened the note, and my heart sank further.

_Grant, _

_Please don't go back to your hotel room. You won't make it out alive. Get out of the city now._

_Coraline will be fine either way, but not you. Please trust me. _

_Alice._

Fear seized me, as I knelt there in the closet. Alice knew what she was talking about, and she was almost never wrong. My decisions were going to lead to my death. Unless I changed them. But which one? I listened in again, hoping for some direction.

_He still doesn't believe her... how can this end up with her being okay?_

_He thinks she loves me. Well, so do I. I think. _I had a brief moment of doubt as I listened. S_he does love me, doesn't she?_

"No, I don't care about him at all. I swear. I'm just using him to get what I want. I don't love him at all."

Her response cut through me like a sword. I knew she was desperate, but still...

_Please by lying, Coraline. Please... I have to know that if I die today, at least I had you..._

There was silence for a while. I pushed away the thought of her words, and went back to my decisions. I had to do something different to survive, something unlike me.

_Maybe I should just burst through the walls and rescue her. Maybe I die and she escapes... no, that's what I _want _to do. What would _change_ things?_

I listened in again, looking for a clue. _Still arguing about love. I think he's jealous... if so, then he must have something to be jealous of. She has to be in love with me. I know it. _

_Maybe I should just try to escape now. I could jump out the window... I'd grab onto a balcony halfway down, then hit the streets running. It would cause a scene, to be sure, but I may escape... of course, if this guy was smart, he'd have somebody posted on the ground-floor, in case I tried that. Killing him would slow me down..._

_I can't do it. It's too risky, and I can't leave Coraline alone..._

The tone of their conversation was getting violent. I listened again, trying to control the rage welling up inside me.

_He is jealous. The stupid jerk is in love with her. Or, more like he wants_ her_ to be in love with _him_. Nothing he does could possibly be motivated by love. _

The tone he was taking with her made me furious. _Nobody talks to my girl like that._ I had half a mind to walk right in there and rip him in half. Doing that would only seal my doom, though, and honestly, if I really loved Coraline, the best thing that I could do for her was to stay alive. That is, if Alice was right...

What I heard next changed my mind in a hurry. The sound of colliding bodies, accompanied by an angry male growl and a thunderous crash, as something went through a wall. I heard everything I needed to. He had attacked her.

I was going to kill him.

My face turned to a deadly snarl, as my body coiled up to attack. There were only three walls between me and him. I would burst through them like they were paper. Right before I did, I heard a shrill, high-pitched tone, which resonated so loudly in my head that it shook me out of my rage for a moment in pain. A moment was all I needed. _Think about what you're doing, Grant. This is the decision. You have to stop. As much as you want to, you can't go in there. That's the decision. You know it._

The sound subsided, and I heard him speak to her again. His words were so vile and offensive, I nearly broke. My body was literally trembling from the rage.

"If you ever lie to me again," he said hatefully, "I will personally kill you."

_No, you petulant worm, _I'm_ going to kill _you_. And I'll smile as I do it. Just you wait... you'll pay for every word._

I could envision it – the look on his ugly face as I held it in my hands, _slowly_ pulling, so he'd feel every bone, every muscle, every synapse tear as I ripped it off.

"Put her back together in Volterra," he said coldly to his henchmen. They replied, asking him about some hole.

"Burn the whole building down," he answered. "Wait until lover-boy comes out, and then kill him."

A cold rush of fear drained over me, followed swiftly by intense focus. _"Lover-boy" is me. They intend to kill me, along with the rest of the hotel occupants..._

I wasn't about to let that happen. I stood up and started feverishly planning my escape.

And the humans' rescue.


	11. Chapter 10: Coraline

_10. NEW YORK: TAKE 2 (CORALINE'S VERSION)_

- - - CORALINE GRAY - - -

The knocking on the door actually startled me at first. I had been talking quietly on the phone all day long, finalizing the details for my trip to New York – I wasn't expecting anyone.

_Please don't be Philippe._

I peeked through the blinds of the living room window, and was relieved to see my sister waiting impatiently on the front porch.

"Hey, Hattie. Come on in," I said cheerfully, as I opened the front door and cleared the way for her. Her arms were full of boxes that smelled like they were full of clothing.

"What's with the boxes?"

"I'm here to help you pack," she said, almost as cheerful as I was.

"I'm a big girl, Harriet. I think I can pack my own bags. Besides, my plane doesn't leave until Thursday."

"I didn't mean _that _kind of packing," she said with a hint of a devious smile. "I'm here to make sure you bring the right things to wear... or_ not_ wear."

She dropped the boxes she brought with her, opening the first one to reveal a stockpile of red and black lace.

"What's all this?" I asked, eyeing the stringy undergarments suspiciously.

"More options," she replied with a cheerleader-esque head tilt.

"I already have more lingerie than a gentleman's club. You helped me pick out most of it, remember? I think I have enough to choose from."

"Yeah, but the stuff you bought was way too tame. What you need is something like this," she said, pulling out some tiny, strappy sheer thing that would hardly cover a doll.

"Ugh... yeah, I'm not wearing that. I don't even think it would fit on me."

"Sure it would. I checked. This is the big unveiling, right? So you need something exciting to wear. I have a few other ones in here, if you'd rather go with less lace and more sheer nylons..."

"Okay, I could be wrong, but isn't the point of wearing this stuff to hint at what's underneath? I mean, it would be nice to leave _something_ to the imagination."

"Ah, but that's the point of this whole trip in the first place isn't it – you don't _have _to leave anything to the imagination anymore."

I knew my sister well enough to know that she wouldn't take a simple 'no' for an answer. She was almost as excited about this trip as I was, and she just wanted to help.

"Why don't you leave them here, and I'll look through them tonight."

"Okay," she said in a doubting tone, "but if you fly to New York without any good stuff, I'm going to be very disappointed in you."

"Don't worry, I'll be skanky enough to make you proud," I replied with a wink. My sister was a bright girl, but she didn't understand – I could wear a parka and still be sexy to Grant. Lingerie or not, we were finally taking it all the way this time.

My flight to New York was long. Forever long. I actually took off my watch about two hours into the trans-atlantic flight, trying to get into the in-flight movie, which, ironically, was about vampires.

Funny.

Not even remotely accurate, but funny,

I was actually as much nervous as I was excited about the weekend. I had insisted that Grant let me make the plans this time, which was a little intimidating, especially when he knew New York a lot better than I did. I had a telephone, though, and that can get you pretty far.

Of course, there was also the uncertainty about our 'first time.' Even though it wasn't technically _my_ first time, it would be the first time I had been intimate with a man without being forced, and without feeling like I wanted to vomit the whole time. I'll admit – I was a little nervous about it.

After suffering through an hour of cheesy fake-blood dripping from exaggerated fangs, I gave up on the in-flight entertainment and went over the weekend's plans in my head. There was no Harriet this time around, which meant all the outdoor stuff had to happen after sundown. Fortunately, we were in 'the city that never sleeps,' and there was plenty of stuff to keep us occupied all night long. I had everything from ballets to operas to a professional football game lined up (weather permitting), with plenty of minor time-killers to fill in the gaps between major events. The evenings would work themselves out. It was the daylight hours I was more concerned with.

I knew there were plenty of other hotels in New York City, maybe even nicer ones, but I decided to make reservations at the Waldorf-Astoria, for nostalgia's sake, if for no other reason. I booked the most prestigious suite in the building – the one usually reserved for presidents, prime ministers and royalty. It cost a fortune, but it was worth it. I was going top-notch on everything.

The way I saw it, we could come up with enough daytime entertainment to last from sun up to sun down and never leave the hotel room (or, more specifically, never leave a certain king-size piece of furniture). There was nothing keeping Grant and me from getting it on for hours on end. Just the thought of it got me so excited I could hardly keep my mind on anything else.

_Keep it together, Coraline_, I instructed myself. Only two hours until you land. _Then you can have all the fun you want_.

The hours passed by like an I.V. drip, and after what felt like a century, the pilot finally began his approach into the New York airport. I pulled a mirror out of my purse as the plane descended and came to a stop on the runway, trying to freshen up my hair and makeup before I saw Grant again. The makeup was fine, but the hair? Hopeless.

_So much for perfection._

The people in front of me

must have been hypnotized by the dull flight; they were moving even _slower_ than an I.V. drip. Finally, I worked my way down the jetway, growing a little too frustrated with the slow-moving traffic in front of me, and walked through the door.

And then I saw him.

He must have spotted me first – his eyes were locked onto me, scanning my face like a tourist in front of the Mona Lisa. It was nice – having Grant around was a real boost to a girl's self-esteem. Of course, he wasn't too hard on the eyes, either. He was leaning against a column in the terminal, dressed in a three-piece tan corduroy suit that fit him like it was hand-made by the fashion gods. His hair was looser than usual – still neat, but softer. Even his shoes were stylish – brown Italian leather loafers. He looked so sleek and strong and... handsome – I couldn't help smiling. This wasn't some bum waiting to see me, this was a Greek statue in a man's clothing.

His look changed as I got closer, from amazement to curiosity.

I followed his gaze, trying to take a little peek into his head to see what the change was about.

_I'll bet he noticed my eyes this time_, I thought to myself. _How couldn't he? It should be pretty obvious by now._

Before I could give it any more thought, I was wrapped up in his arms, my favorite place in the world.

_Yeah... I could stay right here all day._

My life had never been especially comfortable – even in my human days – and with my job working for Philippe, It was worse than ever. Grant was the exception. Everything about him was comfortable – in a good way.

I really could have spent a while longer being held by my comfortable man, but we had other business to attend to. He pulled back and looked at my eyes again, and I knew the question before it even left his mouth.

"Okay – what have you done to your eyes?"

_Oh no – is that bad? I thought they still looked nice, but..._

"Umm,,,"

He had that panicked look on his face that he got when he stuck his foot in his mouth. _He likes them. False alarm_.

"Did I _what_?" I replied with a teasing tone. I wanted to have a little fun with it, especially since it was a positive thing he was figuring out.

"Your eyes look much more... natural," He started to talk again, and all of a sudden, his expression changed. He got it.

"Wait – you've been drinking something different, haven't you?"

_Bingo. It's about time, actually. _I had been waiting a long time to tell him; I didn't want to draw it out any longer.

"I've been hunting-free for twelve weeks now. Are you proud?"

"Are you kidding? I'm ecstatic! How in the world?"

"I met a girl in Rome – a nurse – who works at a hospital there taking blood from donors. She's been setting the good stuff aside and selling it to me under the table. It's great – she keeps it on ice for me, and I come pick it up once a week. Grant, I swear – when you heat it up, it tastes _almost_ real. I mean, it's real, but... well, you know. It's good. I'm really happy about it."

"You know, that's a great idea. I can't believe I've never tried that myself."

"I can't take the credit, actually. It was Harriet's idea. She and Wesley have been doing that for over a year."

"And you said you've been drinking this way for twelve weeks? That means-"

"Yep. I started it before the Amsterdam visit."

"So, your eyes took a while to begin changing color, then."

"No, they started changing in the first week."

"That's impossible. I would have noticed."

I was a little disappointed that he didn't notice the first time around, but as much as he seemed perfect, he still made mistakes. After all, vampire or not, he was still a man.

"Don't worry about it. You noticed now. So, what do you think of my new look?"

This was the part I was a little nervous about. He was so used to seeing me one way, and vampires weren't very good with change, as a general rule. I just didn't want anything about me to become less attractive to him. Since becoming a vampire, I had received more compliments about my looks than I could count. Grant was the only one who ever really made me feel beautiful, though. I didn't want anything about that to change.

"You look stunning. In fact... they're even prettier than before, if such a thing were possible."

_And again, just when I start to underestimate you, you blow me away._

"Thank you," I replied, as genuinely as possible. Grant was working with me on responding politely to compliments. It took a little effort – I wasn't used to them being legitimate.

"You don't know how relieving it is to hear you say that."

"Well, then, I'll say it again. You look beautiful. Exquisite. Divine. Ravishing."

"Okay, now you're getting carried away. I think we can leave it at 'beautiful.' Now, how about we get moving – I've got a ton of stuff planned for this weekend. We'd better get on with it."

Grant helped me with my luggage, as if I needed help carrying a simple little suitcase. It meant a lot to him, though, to be chivalrous, and I actually didn't mind the thought behind it.

Once we got outside, we learned that Grant's car had gone missing. He was pretty upset about it, but it really wasn't that big of a deal. We hailed a taxi, and started making our way to the hotel.

I couldn't help being a little preoccupied during the car ride. Grant and I were sitting next to each other, hand-in-hand, and with all the plans I had for the rest of the weekend, even that much physical contact was exciting. I would have been fine just sitting and enjoying the feeling, but he wanted to talk, so we talked.

"So, about your eyes – and your feeding process – you said Harriet and Wesley have been doing this even longer than you have. I assume their eyes have changed too..."

_He's still on the eyes. Maybe it was a mistake to show him so early. There _are_ other parts of me, you know_.

"Uh, yeah... they've changed too. Harriet's are a lighter brown than mine, closer to her color before the change. And Wesley's are so dark they're almost black. It's really hard to tell when he's thirsty or full."

"That's fascinating. I was just thinking, I wonder if one's natural color before the transformation impacts how the eyes respond to the vampire coloration. For example, my eyes were brown before the change, and since I've been drinking older blood, they've been strictly brown, albeit with the slightest red tint if you look hard enough. Harvey, though – his eyes were hazel, like my mother's. I can faintly detect flecks of gold and dark green in his. And then, Lucy's are solid brown, but a little lighter than mine, which correlates with her human color..."

_Wow. He really is a handsome man. I love the way he looks when he gets all academic and scientific._

_Adorable._

_Can we just get to the hotel already? Maybe we don't need entertainment first... _

_No, I put a lot of planning into tonight. We should stick to the plan._

_If he knew what I was wearing under this dress, would he be as turned on about it as I am? Maybe I should find out..._

"_..._ so, if my theory is correct, then that would mean that your eyes would have been green before the change. Am I right?"

"Um... sorry, what?"

_Oops. Caught me wandering off..._

"Were your human eyes green?"

"Yeah. Sort-of. It depended on what I wore. Sometimes they looked more blue, but I think most people would have called them green."

_Look at that suit – all those buttons... those would be fun to undo, one... at... a... time..._

_Of course, they'd also make a really cool scatter effect if I tore that vest open... Hmm... decisions..._

"I figured as much, given the hint of green in your eyes right now. It's a shame that something as unique as eye color is lost in the transformation. I would give anything to see your human self. You must have been such a beautiful girl."

_Wait – what?_

"I told you, I was totally plain."

"You're too hard on yourself. Vampirism doesn't make that big a difference. It only adds polish to the material it has to work with. I'm sure you were lovely."

_Compliments again. I guess they're okay, though. He does mean it..._

As much as I enjoyed talking to Grant, I was glad when the taxi stopped in front of the Waldorf. We had all the time in the world to talk. Tonight was about action.

Or not.

"What do you mean_, 'not available?'" _

There better have been a misunderstanding. Otherwise, I was about to reach over that counter and shove the hostess's cute little hat down her throat.

"I'm terribly sorry, miss Gray," she began, trying to mask her annoyance at me for causing a scene. She had no idea how bad this could get for her. Stupid girl.

She gave me some story about how they needed the room for a politician or something, and they wanted to move me to the third floor, which was completely average.

If I wanted 'average,' I would have tried one of the other 300 hotels in town.

"I don't want the third floor," I said, trying to pull my temper under control. "I paid for the executive suite, and I want the executive suite."

"The third floor is all I can do for you," she said, holding back her frustration. "Should I go ahead and book it, then?"

I wanted to smack the insultingly-fake smile off her face, but I took a deep breath and walked away. This wasn't how I wanted the evening to go, but getting mad would just make things worse.

Grant was level-headed enough to find another hotel for us to stay in. We ended up at the _Ashcroft Hotel_, another 5-star establishment in the area. It was actually a very nice place, but I was still upset. Everything in this evening was planned for a purpose. I wanted it to be perfect.

Instead, I got "workable."

I put up my suitcase and had a look around the room. The decorations were lacking a bit, but it did have a great view from the balcony window.

"Hey, come look at this view," I said, looking out at the sea of lights below.

He was behind me in a flash, putting his strong arms around my midsection sweetly. The contact was unexpected, but very nice. It reminded me of something.

"We forgot something at the airport," I said, trying to fake concern. He leaned his head forward as he responded, and I turned mine to see his expression. He bought the joke – he was trying to think through going back to get something.

"What was it? Did you have two bags?"

"Just this," I said, giving him a lighting-fast, playful kiss on the lips. He smiled, catching my humor, and kissed me back, only his kiss was a lot more involved than mine.

Not that I had a problem with that.

We were instantly locked into each other, kissing like it our lives depended on it. He stayed behind me at first, kissing me over my shoulder, as his hands roamed freely across my body. It was a little risqué, for Grant. I liked it. There was passion and intensity in his movements, too much for me to have my back to him, so I turned around and faced him, wrapping my arms around his strong midsection, and did a little 'roaming' of my own.

After a short while of kissing like that, he picked me up, easily supporting my weight as I wrapped my legs around his waist. Slowly, deliberately, he carried me over to the king-size, four-post bed and laid me there, supporting his body above me.

_I like the way this is going, _I thought to myself, as our bodies writhed together on the pillow-top mattress, moving in perfect unison like a pair of ballet dancers. _Sex tonight might end up being easier than I thought. Heck, we're already in the right position – if only we didn't have all these pesky clothes in the way..._

I really considered forgetting all my plans and going for it right there, but I talked myself out of it. I didn't put all that time into planning the perfect weekend only to throw it all out the window. There would be plenty of time for sex later.

"You're really quite the seductress, you know?"

"Me?_ You're_ the one who went all 'soap opera' on me. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to 'steal my virtue.'"

I winked. He didn't get the joke.

"I hope you know that I had no intention of doing anything of the sort. I respect you far too much to ever-"

"Hey – relax. It was a joke. I know how you feel." _Even if I think it's ridiculous._

"Good. Well, then, what's next on the surprise agenda?"

_The agenda..._

_The agenda! "_Oh no, what time is it?"

"Um... seven fifty-four,"

_How could you have been so careless? What were you thinking, Coraline?_

"Is that bad?"

"Not if we hurry," I said as I grabbed his wrist and rushed out the door. We started to take the elevator, but I knew it would be too slow, so we ran down the stairs like a couple of banshees and went to hail a cab.

You know those TV shows you see where people just whistle, and a taxi immediately comes screeching to a halt in front of them? Well those directors have obviously never actually _been_ to New York City. We stood there on the sidewalk for an eternity before a car actually stopped to pick us up. I glanced over at Grant's watch: _7:57. No, no, no! We're gonna miss it!_

"Okay, listen," I said to the cab driver as we climbed in, "we need you to take us to the Lincoln Center. Fast! Hurry!"

He didn't move_. _

_Are you kidding me?_

Grant told him the exact same thing, and for whatever reason, he listen the second time. Of course, he still missed the "hurry" part, taking his sweet time to pull out into the busy street. _This is not good_, I thought to myself, silently stewing. _We're never gonna make it there by 8._

We didn't make it by 8. We didn't even make it by 8:20. We hit a traffic jam on the way because of some stupid accident, and by the time we reached the performance hall, the City Ballet had already been going for over thirty minutes. There was no way I was walking in there that late. It was over. We missed it. _Perfect evening, strike two_.

Grant tried to make me feel better, but I was too frustrated and disappointed for easy consolation. _Can't _something_ go right tonight?_

"We can see them perform another day. It's not like there's any shortage of things to do in the city,"

"I know there's other stuff to do, but I planned this just for you. I know how much you enjoy dance, and... it's just... everything's going wrong tonight. I am _so_ frustrated."

"I appreciate the thought, but honestly, it's alright. I don't really care what we're doing, as long as we're together."

_I'm more upset about it than he is. That's nice to know. Doesn't make me feel better, though._

"Well that's good, 'cause now I don't have anything to do for the next two hours."

"Would you be up for a change of plans?"

"Sure. What do you have in mind?"

"There's a new Broadway show debuting in two weeks – 'Evita.' I pulled some strings and got a pass to sit in on the dress rehearsal tonight. That is, if you'd be interested..."

_He has a plan. _Of course_ he has a plan. Ugh! it just isn't fair. _

"I've never seen a Broadway show before... it sounds like fun. Can we make it there in time?"

"Sure. We may want to take the subway, though."

We made it to the show in plenty of time, and got to sit in a section all to ourselves, watching the whole production like it was put on just for the two of us.

I had seen plenty of operas and dramas before, but this was different – in a good way. All the singing and dancing was great, and after a while, I got pulled into the storyline. The show was good for me – it gave me a chance to get over the initial frustration of my plans imploding, and it helped me to remember why I was doing all that work in the first place – I just wanted to be with Grant. At least I was accomplishing that mission.

We walked out of the theater together, humming the tune to "Don't Cry for Me Argentina," and once again, life was good. That is, as long as we made it to our next destination in time. We moved on foot this time, heading to the rooftop of a thirty-story apartment building looking out over Central Park. We made it in plenty of time, and things were set up just as I had requested. _At least _this_ is working._

I had called ahead and reserved the entire roof space of the building, which had been converted into a garden by one of the wealthy tenants living below. It wasn't cheap, but money really wasn't an issue. I just wanted Grant to have a good time.

"So... what do you think?" I asked, watching closely to read his reaction.

"It's great, Coraline. It smells magnificent up here, and the view... you've outdone yourself. Thank you."

_He likes it. Good._

"Just wait – you haven't seen the best part yet."

I tried to keep up a decent conversation with Grant while I waited for my little waiter to show up with the next treat of the evening. It wasn't easy – most of my thoughts were about how crazy I was about Grant, how badly I wanted to get all over him, and... how good something smelled coming up the stairs...

The waiter was here.

I turned casually to see him walk up to us, tuxedo and all.

_Perfect. Now, let's hope the product is as good as it's supposed to be._

"Here you are, Miss Gray," he said, as he laid the glasses down on the table beside us. "Two Bloody Mary's, warmed just the way you requested. Will there be anything else?"

"Yes, why don't you bring up the whole bottle. Actually, _all _the bottles. We'll pour our own from here on out. Thank you."

Grant was staring that glass down like he was about to dive into it.

"Well, what're you waiting for?" I asked with one raised eyebrow. "Drink up."

He emptied the entire goblet like a shot glass of whiskey, inhaling deeply in satisfaction as he put it back down on the table._ I knew it. He loves it._

_Score!_

"What on earth is this, and where can I get more?"

"It's a little concoction that Wes and Harriet came up with in Greece. You get blood from a donor, filter out the rest of the fluids until it's mostly just red blood cells, and get it right to a refrigerator. We're picky, too. We only use donors under thirty years old, and we separate it by blood type. What you just had was B negative. Like it?"

"_Like_ it? It's a divine revelation of taste. I've never had anything that... that... there's not even a word for it.."

"Good. Well, B-negative is my favorite. I like AB-negative, too – actually, all the negatives are good. There's just something in the rh-positive blood that leaves an aftertaste."

"There_ is _more coming, right?"

"I've got gallons."

"You just became my new favorite person."

"I thought I was already your favorite person."

"Well... you've further solidified your position, then."

"Good. I'm very glad you liked it." _And I can think of a good way you could thank me..._

We stayed on the rooftop for a couple of hours, drinking, talking, and generally enjoying blissful freedom together. There was nobody else in sight, no humans to discover us, no vampires to hunt us. I could have stayed there all night long, but there were other things I wanted to get around to.

"So..." we said in eerily perfect unison.

"Um... you go first."

"No, ladies first. I insist."

"That's alright, it wasn't important anyway. I wanna hear what you have to say."

"Well, alright. I know you've got this whole weekend planned out, and I don't want to do anything to throw off your schedule, so, just tell me if that's the case, but, I was wondering... you remember that bridge that we went to the last time we were here – would you be open to swinging by there for a few moments, just for old time's sake?"

_Nostalgia... I guess that could be romantic. We _do_ have a little time to kill before sunrise..._

"Um – sure. Yeah. We can do that. Do you... wanna-"

"Walk. If that's alright..."

"Sure."_ I think._

Fortunately, when Grant said "walk," he actually meant "run underground where people can't see you." We made it to the bridge in a hurry, and settled into the same old spot where we'd been before.

I sat down first, breathing deeply as the cool wind blew over the water and across my face.

"This is still my favorite view of the city"

"It does have a vulnerability to it, doesn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, cities like this, they seem so much larger than life – at least to the outsider. Views like this are like Dorothy peeking behind the curtain. You see that it's a real place with real people. Like... for example, take that house over there."

_Why is it that we always get so philosophical when we sit here. What ever happened to just enjoying the view? Oh, well. Philosophy's something we have in common. There could be worse things in the world..._

"There's probably a couple that lives there. They eat, they sleep – in fact they're probably sleeping now."

"That would be nice for a change, wouldn't it? Sleep."

"It would. They're normal, though. You know what I mean? They probably take their children to the bus stop and go to church on the weekends. Just... normal."

_Normal. Something I've never been. And pretty much never will be. That ship sailed about... oh, 39 __years ago._

"If only," I said, replying to the words he wasn't saying. We couldn't be normal. We had already established that much. He was trying to get somewhere with all of this, and I couldn't figure out where it was._ Guess I'll just be surprised..._

"Think about it, though. The man of the house is probably about my age. He works a simple job – maybe as a salesman at a furniture store, or maybe an accountant, or an algebra teacher."

"And what about the wife? Is she just a stay-at-home mom? Barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen?"

Grant's old-fashion-ness was cute, but sometimes, he went a little too far.

"Only if she wants to be. The husband understands her desires for a career, but she may just want to make raising children her career, which would be a worthwhile task."_ Well, okay. Maybe not this time._

"Not if the children are brats."

"They wouldn't be. They've got a four year old son... and a two year old daughter. Every night they read them fairytales and tuck them into bed."

_Children. Another thing I'll never have. Of course, I'd probably make a lousy mother, so..._

"Yeah, they have the life, huh? Too bad for us."

_Come on, Grant. Get to the point, already. You're making me nervous with all this_ _"family" talk._

"They have things that we don't have – breath, hunger, fatigue... freedom, peace. But the most important thing they have is something we can have too."

"What's that?"

"Love."

_Crap. I was afraid of that..._

We had decided a long time ago that we weren't going to use that word. It wasn't that I didn't love him – I loved him more than anything imaginable, but I was barely hanging onto my emotional sanity as it was. Saying the words made it too open, too real. I didn't think my heart could survive this kind of separation with that kind of vulnerability. It was easier not to say it until it wouldn't have any negative consequences.

"Grant-"

"I bought a house," I interrupted, letting my nerves drive the pace of my delivery too fast. "In Tuscany, far off the beaten path on a two-hundred acre farm."

_Tuscany? No, no, no..._

"What? Why would you-"

_I knew this day would come. I _knew_ it. Coraline, you stupid, selfish girl. Look what you've driven him to._

"We could live there – well..._ I_ could live there. You could come and visit anytime you got free time. It's less than an hour's run from Volterra."

"Oh my god, Grant. Are you serious?"

"Quite."

"No! No... you need to just... forget that you ever even thought about that."

"Why not? Aren't you tired of us being separated like this? I know you feel the same way I do about it..."

"Grant, they will find you and kill you. It's way too risky."

_Please drop the subject. I don't want to fight over this. We were having such a good time..._

"It's been thirty-five years. I think they're done searching for me. Besides, I would never need to go near Volterra – you could come to visit me there, just like you sneak out to talk on the phone."

"What if somebody followed me? Grant, you're not thinking this through. If they found you-"

"It's the same risk we take every time we visit. What if someone followed you here, or to Amsterdam? It's the same."

"It's not the same. These visit are planned carefully, there are lots of precautions."

"Then I'll take precautions. I'll be smart and safe, I swear. I'll be anything you need me to be, just say yes."

"You won't, Grant. If you're that close, you won't. You'll slip up eventually. It just... it can't work."

"It has to. I need to be with you."

"You can, Grant. I only have fifteen-"

"No."

"Fifteen more years-"

"That's too long."

"I'll be totally free. We can go, and live anywhere you want. You can buy me the little house on the hill, and we'll be happy there."

He was hurting – desperate. I could see it, but I had to stand my ground. Better to hurt a little now than a lot later.

"Don't you understand? I nearly die every time you step back onto that plane. It's practically tearing my heart in two – being apart from you like this. We have to be together. Coraline, I lo-"

"Grant! Stop. Don't go there."

"Oh, why not? You know it's true as well as I do."

"You promised, Grant."

"Well, I lied."

"Please. Don't."

"It's true."

"I don't_ care _where you want to g-"

"It's not tim-"

"I'm making the time-"

"Grant, I don't-"

"I love you, dammit! I _love_ you."

_Oh, Grant. Why did you do that? Why?_

I stared off at the water below, trying to get a grip on my emotions.

_Don't do this. I love you, but I can't...Why are you saying this now? _

I turned and looked at him. I didn't want to, but my heart made me do it. The words he said were so sweet... but they were ripping me in two.

"You are the reason I want to go to work every morning, the reason I have hope at the end of every day, hope that I can talk to you, hope that we can schedule a visit. You're the reason I care at all what happens to me, the reason I'm willing to keep living this frozen life this way. Coraline, I love you with every ounce of my being. I love Harvey and Lucy, too, but not like you. You are the single most important thing in my entire existence. I love you."

I took a moment to think about what I was going to say. My heart was torn – hearing those words felt so good, like breathing life back into a corpse. I cherished every single one. At the same time, I was so mad at him for making me feel like that – because I had to leave again, and now I would be more crushed than ever. _Why couldn't he just stick to the plan?_

"If you... love me, you'll wait for me."

"If _you_ love _me_, then you'll do whatever it takes to be with me."

_I can't believe he's going there._

"Grant, it has nothing to do with that. I l- … I _care about_ you too much to put you in danger." _Don't you understand?_

"You're just afraid. You're afraid that somehow, you might actually be happy, and then you wouldn't know what to do with yourself."

He was getting upset.

So was I.

"That's ridiculous. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't I? First it's excuses in Malmedy, then in New York and Venezuela... I think you just don't know how to be happy."

_Don't you even..._

_That's it, buddy. I've had enough of this._

"You have no idea what I've been through. I have put what I want last for my whole damn life. I have given away so much for you, and all you can say is 'you don't know how to be happy?'"

_That's it. I'm done. I'm done with this._

"Coraline... the house in Tuscany can work. Just... think about it."

"I will. On the plane."

"What?"

"I need some space from you right now. I'm going back home."

"No, wait – look, I'm sorry-"

"I'm sorry, too. This was all a bad idea," I said, standing up. "I'll call you when I get back to Volterra. Maybe by then we can both be calm enough to talk about this like adults."

"Don't go. I'm sorry, I'll-"

"Goodbye."

I left him sitting there, walking as fast as I could back to the hotel. I had to get out of this city. I had to get away from him so I could think straight. As mad as I was at him, I was madder at myself. The whole thing was wrong.

_This isn't how it was supposed to go_, I thought, remembering how the weekend was supposed to go.

_Why do you have to screw everything up? Stupid girl._

I didn't feel like running around subway cars on the way back, and I certainly didn't want to take the time to walk at human speed, so I hailed a cab. Of course, this time, I got one right away. Of course.

My mood soured as I sat silently in the back of the car, thinking about how royally messed up my love life was. _For once, for _once _couldn't things work out for me? Why do I have to love someone I can't be with? Why do I have to keep him distant? Maybe I should have gone along with his plan... No. I'm right this time. He'll come around._

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the tickets to the rest of my stupid romantic weekend. New York Philharmonic, after-hours pass to the museum of science, NFL game... all of it was a waste now. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._

Thanks to morning traffic, it was 5:50 by the time I got back to the hotel, which left me less than forty minutes to get to the airport and buy a new return ticket. There were no clouds to be seen overhead – I had to get there before the sun came up and trapped me in the city for another day.

I didn't ever unpack at the hotel, I just grabbed the tickets from the suitcase, so I didn't need to do anything but pick up my luggage and get out the door. I went to the room and grabbed the suitcase, and all the contents flew out onto the bed. _Of course. You forgot to zip it back up. Perfect_.

I got sad and bitter again as I threw the fancy lingerie back into the suitcase.

_What were you thinking, Coraline? So, you can't say 'I love you,' 'cause that'll be too emotionally attaching, but you you can sleep with the guy all weekend and then walk away like nothing happened?_ _Seriously! No wonder the whole thing melted down. It was a stupid idea to begin with. Face it – you're stuck in limbo for the next fifteen years. You might as well come to grips with it and quit trying._

I wasn't paying attention to what I was doing, and I ended up with more lingerie than luggage space. _Guess I should have packed this in there a little better..._

I was in such a hurry that I decided to just leave it behind. Harriet would get over it.

I zipped up the suitcase, and was about to move toward the door when I smelled him – Grant. He was there, close by. _Seriously, Grant. I don't have time_...

He didn't even bother to knock, he just came barging in, trying to get me to stay in town.

"Coraline, you don't have to do this," I said, as I walked through the doorway, stopping about six feet from her.

"Grant, I don't want to be mean about this, I don't... just let me go, alright?"

"I'm sorry, truly... I shouldn't have pushed you-"

"It's fine. Just... I need space, okay?" _He really needs to learn when to quit._

"But we're already here, and we've got the rest of the weekend. At least stay in town. I'll give you all day, and we can spend time together again ton-"

"I... need more time than that."

"How much... time?"

"More than the weekend. Just go, Grant. I'll call you."

"Hey – are we alright?" I asked, stepping forward slowly. "I _am_ sorry about what I said – I was totally out of line, and I understand if it hurt you. I hope you know that... well, I care about you. I never want to hurt you in any way..."

_Let me go, Grant. I promise, I'll let- wait – what's that smell?_

I sniffed slowly, and got really scared. I smelled vampires, and there was at least one of them that I recognized.

"Coraline? Are you alr-"

"Shh!" I said, flashing over to the window to have a look at the street below. Suddenly, all the life drained out of me like ice water.

Philippe was here.

"... oh my god..." _How did he find me? Was I that careless? Oh, god – what if he finds Grant? He'll kill him. We have to run. _"He's here."

"Who's here?"

"Philippe. He's here."

"What? How did he-"

"You have to run. Now," I said, placing my hands on his chest and looking into his eyes. "Run. Now!"

"No. Come with me."

"He already knows I'm here. That's why he came. You have to get out of here. Get out of the building."

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm not afraid of him."

"He's not alone, Grant. He's got at least two others with him, and I'll bet he's got another two coming in the back door right now. You have to get out of here. I'll hold them up."

"I'll be fine. Now, go!" I said, pushing him away. We were running out of time – they were already in the building.

"I won't leave you."

"Go. Please..."

He finally left, and I started trying to prepare my story. I had told Philippe I was going to Miami to talk to a small coven that operated in the area. Obviously that story was long gone.

I couldn't think. There wasn't enough time. I started quickly shoving my luggage under the bed, but the bigger one wouldn't fit, so I unzipped it and started shoving bras and camisoles under the bed until I heard the elevator bell ring like a death toll.

_Out of time. He's here._

I zipped the suitcase back up and quietly slid it against the wall, barely making it to an overstuffed lounge chair before Philippe barged in, breaking the door handle off in the process.

"Where is he?" He asked sharply, leaving his two goons out in the hall as he shut the now-broken door behind him.

"What in the hell are you doing here?" I countered, trying to buy more time to think up a story.

"Answer the question, Coraline."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"The man you were meeting here. The vampire. Where is he?"

"I'm here by myself. What gave you the impression-"

"Don't lie to me!" He thundered, his eyes blazing like bonfires. "I can still smell his scent. He was here less than a half-hour ago."

"Fine," I replied angrily. "You caught me, alright? I was working something off the books. I didn't want to bother you with the details."

"Really?" He didn't sound convinced.

"Really."

"That's interesting. So, he's from New York?"

"Uh-huh."

"Tell me, then, does he also own a home in Amsterdam? Or, how about, Sao Paolo? Maybe Bordeaux..."

_Crap. He knows. _

I was in big trouble.

"Philippe, I can explain..."

"Does he work for Demetri? Are you trying to subvert me?"

"What? No. Nothing like that." _Think of a lie. Think!_

"Is he with the S.O.A.?"

"No. Seriously, who do you think I am?"

"Is he a lover?"

"What?"  
>"Are you in love with him?" he asked slowly and deliberately.<p>

_First of all, that's none of his business, but... maybe it'll give me a window._

"No, I'm not in love with him... but he thinks I am."

"I'm listening," he said impatiently, wanting me to explain further.

"There's a guy I met in... Venezuela. While I was on vacation. We talked, we hung out-"

"And what – you're just stringing him along?"

"No... he has a friend," I began, as the wheels started turning in my head. I knew I shouldn't be using this as an excuse, but I needed something – I had to deflect the attention away from Grant. "She can see the future. I mean, not the whole future, but important events..."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"It's true – I swear. Think about it, Philippe... a looking glass into the future. Imagine how much more powerful you would be if you were never caught off-guard by anything..."

"Even if you're telling the truth, Aro's far too greedy to let me keep a special that powerful. He'd take her for himself."

"Yeah – why do you think I'm doing this off-book?"

His brows creased as his head tilted slightly. He was figuring it out as we went along. Of course, so was I.

"Well, you could've at least told me," he replied, still angry.

"No I couldn't, that's the point. You see Aro all the time. I never see him at all. If you knew the details, he would see it, and he'd take her himself. I was trying to protect you, but obviously that's a lost cause now."

His face turned sour, then angry, as he realized what he'd done (at least, what he thought he'd done). He was mostly convinced, but he didn't want to believe it. He hated making mistakes, and this time, there would be no one to blame but himself.

"You're lying," he said, cold and flat.

"No, I'm not."

"I can tell. You actually care about this- this... commoner."

"No. Seriously, I don't."

"You love him, don't you. Admit it." He was growing more intense with each passing second – this was a very big deal to him, for some reason.

"No, I don't care about him at all. I swear. I'm just using him to get what I want. I don't love him at all."

_Please don't be listening to this, Grant. Please be somewhere far away by now..._

Philippe was silent, staring me down as he tried to make up his mind whether or not to believe me. I knew he would – he always did. I should have left it at that, too, but all this stupid 'love' talk was really irritating me, and apparently, _I_ didn't know when to quit.

"Why should you care, anyway?" I asked, after a very uncomfortable pause.

"About what?"

"Whether I love some guy or not. My love life is none of your business."

"Really?" he asked, cocking his head and bobbing it slightly. "None of my business?"

I could see the anger swelling up behind his eyes. I should have given it up, but I was mad, too, and I wasn't about to lie down for him.

"You control everything, Philippe. You tell me where to live, you tell me when to drink, you tell me where to go, who to talk to... you don't get to tell me who to love. It's none of your damn business."

"Everything you do is my business."

"Not love." I said defiantly, locking my jaw and staring him straight in the eyes.

"Especially love!" He snapped back, stepping closer, until his tall frame towered over me.

"Why?"

"Because it should be mine!" He shouted, now just six inches from my face. "Because I deserve your love. If it were not for me, you'd be nothing. You'd be no one. I've given you everything, and still, you spit upon me with your lies. _I _deserve your love, not some cowering low-life that you sneak around with in the shadows like a dog."

I was so mad I couldn't see straight. _Call me whatever you want, but you don't talk about my man that way._

"The only thing you deserve is a kick in the groin, you arrogant jerk."

I saw what was coming next, but not in time to stop it. Enraged, he grabbed me by the throat and drove me against the wall, shoving me so hard that my head went right through the brick exterior of the hotel and into the morning air outside. I fought back, as he started to crush my throat, and landed that kick in the groin I was talking about. I wanted to do more, but his bodyguards were in the room in a flash, and before I could make another move, I heard a piercing, high-pitched noise that made my head throb like a thumb hit by a hammer.

I fell to the ground, dizzy and lightheaded, as I reached my hands up to see how much of my neck had been pulverized everything was twisted and mangled so badly that I couldn't breathe – or speak.

"You are nothing, you worthless, miserable whore," he said to me, bending over to speak softly in my ear, as the sound subsided momentarily. "If you ever lie to me again, I will personally kill you."

I didn't have the awareness to do much, but I did manage to turn my head enough to spit in his face. _Do with me what you want,_ I thought to myself. _As long as Grant's safe, I don't care. _

Philippe nodded, and the two bodyguards came on either side of me, squeezing my head in their huge hands.

"Put her back together in Volterra," he instructed them.

"What do you want us to do about the, uh... hole?"

"Burn the whole building down. Wait until lover-boy comes out, and then kill him."

_Oh, god, no! No, wait – don't-_

And then there was darkness.


	12. Chapter 11

_11. FIRE_

- - - GRANT WILLOUGHBY - - -

I tapped my fingers against each other nervously, as I ran through scenarios in my head. Getting out wouldn't be easy – even if Philippe took his two bodyguards with him, I would still be outnumbered, and possibly out-matched with special abilities. I had been forced to fight for my life numerous times before, though, against worse odds than this. That wasn't the part I was worried about. It was the human life in the building that complicated my plans.

Judging by the size of the hotel and representative percentage of occupancy on my current floor, there were likely over 1,800 people in the wood-and-brick high rise building. Add to that the consideration that any self-respecting vampire hit-man was an expert in starting fires quickly, and you had a recipe for massive human casualties. As much as I wanted to escape unharmed, I knew I couldn't do that if it meant leaving these poor, unsuspecting people to burn to death. I had to find a way to save us all.

After the conversation in Coraline's room ended, I listened carefully for footsteps, and heard three distinct sets leaving the room and heading through the door to the staircase. Coraline's cadence was not one of them – they must have been carrying her. The very thought both disgusted and disheartened me. I had failed miserably as her protector, choosing to save myself rather than keep her from harm. I had to, though. It was the only way. _Alice said she would be okay,_ I reminded myself, as I shook off the guilt and refocused on the task at hand. _I trust Alice._

As soon as they were safely out of hearing range, I hurriedly acted out step one of my developing plan: notify the authorities. Across the room was a telephone, located on the nightstand next to the luxurious king-size bed. I leaped across the room, landing with no more sound than a grasshopper, and swiftly dialed 9-1-1.

"Nine-one-one emergency assistance," the surprisingly calm female voice said on the other line, "what is the nature of your emergency?"

"Uh, yes... I'd like to report a fire."

There was a slight pause, as I heard the sound of fingers typing on a keyboard in the background.

"I'm seeing that you're calling from the Ashcroft Hotel on Park Avenue, is that correct?"

"Yes, that's correct. Listen, you need to send every available fire brigade to the hotel as soon as possible – I have a feeling this is going-"

My sentence was cut off by the deafening concussion of a large-scale explosion nearby. The building groaned and shuddered, as the floor beneath me swayed uneasily for a moment, eventually settling back into place.

_Good heavens – these people are serious._

Instinctively, I dashed over to the window, breaking through it and looking below, where I suspected the explosion had come from. I was right – there were huge orange balls of flames streaming from the tall ground-floor windows. Whatever type of incendiary device they had used, it was powerful.

My time frame just got a lot smaller.

I rushed back over to the telephone, but there was no sound, no dial-tone. The blast must have severed the phone lines. I noticed that the electricity was also cut off – at least on my floor. _Stay calm, Grant. Plan your work, work your plan._

I could hear frightened screams all around me, as hotel guests throughout the building were awakened to the smell of ash and sulfur and the sound of crackling timber. There was no telling how long the fire brigade would take to arrive – I had to start getting people out of there.

I reached out with my sense of smell, which, though inhibited by the smoke rising through the building, still gave me forewarning of the proximity of vampires, and inhibited my own scent. They may have had the numerical advantage, but I had a powerful tactical upper-hand of my own – the element of surprise. There were no vampires on my hall, so I stepped out into it, surprised to already see a dozen people standing there, looking confused.

"Listen up, everyone," I said loudly, walking toward them. "There's been an accident, and the bottom floor of the building is on fire. It's important that you all stay calm, and we'll get out together."

Their faces slid to one extreme or the other – some to panic, others to determination. I identified one of the determined ones, a middle-aged man in a robe and house slippers.

"You – sir," I said, gesturing him to come closer. "I need you to pull these people together and take them down to the south end of the hall. There's an outdoor fire escape ladder there, and that's your best way out of here. Knock on every door, make sure no one is left behind. Can you do that for me?"

He nodded his head, his eyes narrowing with intensity. Amazing, how in an emergency situation, people will blindly trust someone who seems to be in authority. Fortunately for him, I wasn't the type of vampire who wanted him for lunch. Unfortunately for him, there were at least two others nearby who would kill him without flinching. His and every other human life in the building was in serious jeopardy. I had to keep moving – there were 32 other floors to evacuate.

Vampires are quite flammable by nature, especially when venom is released (as in the case of, say, a fight), so I expected Philippe's henchmen to be waiting for me outside the building, probably watching the exits from a neighboring high-rise. As long as I stayed inside the hotel, I would be safe. That is, if I didn't catch on fire and burn to a pile of ashes.

After seeing to it that the humans on my floor were being evacuated, I darted to the staircase, and began working my way down. It was closer to the fire (and closer to danger), but it was also the direction of the most endangered hotel occupants.

There was fire at the bottom of the long, square stairwell, but from my position on the 21st floor, I couldn't tell how far up it had come. I wanted to move more quickly in that direction to find out, but the stairs were congested with frightened people trying to make their way out. I did my best to direct them back to their halls and out to the exterior fire escape ladders, but some were too panicked to listen. After three minutes or so, I came to the edge of the flames, the fourth floor. The first two stories of the building were taken up by an extensive lounge and lobby – all of which was almost certainly blown to bits by the explosion I heard earlier. Guest rooms began on the third floor, which gave me some hope – two floors out of 32 wasn't ideal, but it was better than could be expected.

There was intense heat behind the stairway door, and dense, black smoke rushed out from the creases in the frame, occasionally thinning enough to let the flickering lights of flames show through. This wasn't going to be pretty. Everything in my vampire instinct was urging me to burst through the wall and run far away, but my conscience wouldn't allow it. I had to rescue these innocent people, if at all possible. It was the only decent thing to do. I exhaled deeply, pushing every bit of potentially-flammable oxygen out of my lungs, and kicked the door down.

Smoke billowed out of the now-open door frame in a brief surge, after which I could see somewhat clearly to the other end of the hall. There were flames on the left far end of the hallway, but the rest seemed to be relatively intact.

_There may yet be hope._

I listened closely, trying to sort through the cacophony of crackling flames, shouted instructions and shrieks of fear around me, and began to search for heartbeats. I knew for some, I was already too late – there weren't many nearby, but I was able to make out a handful that seemed to still be strong enough to be viable, provided the bodies weren't burned too badly. The first survivor was two doors down on the left side of the hall, free of flames. I burst through the door, quickly panning across the room to find a young couple lying on the floor trying to breathe whatever clean air was left in the room. I scooped them up effortlessly and carried them back to the stairwell.

"Are you alright?" I asked, as they sat there on the stairs, numb from shock. They nodded their heads. I continued. "As soon as you're recovered enough to move, climb the stairs to the sixth floor and exit on the fire escape at the end of the hall."

Not wanting to waste any precious time, I went back into the hall, pulling out another woman from the right side, then two couples on either side of the hallway, getting gradually closer to the growing flames. I made one last trip into the hall, and found just one more beating heart – on the other side of the fire. My body resisted me as I walked closer to the open flames – the only way to progress was passing

completely through them. I knew it was a risk, but I had to take it. I couldn't leave anyone behind. I backed up a few paces, and jumped through, finding a small clearing on the other side. The flames didn't have enough time to ignite my skin or clothing.

_Safe for now. I think._

The survivor was on the right side of the hall, and the flames were already licking at the edge of the door. I was about to kick it off of its frame, but I smelled something familiar – vampires. I paused for a few precious seconds, sifting through the pungent odor of the burning wood and melting plastic around me, just to be sure they were actually on the other side of that door.

They were.

There were two distinct smells, one I had caught in the stairwell earlier, and a new, unfamiliar scent.

_Great, so there are at least three of them in the hotel._

They must have known I would try coming to rescue the survivors, and were planning an ambush. Fortunately, they couldn't smell me coming. I gathered up all the courage I could summon, and kicked down the door, eyes wide open and scanning the room as I rushed in like a flash of lightning. I was right – there were two of them in there – but they weren't waiting for me. Each of the two large men was clutching onto a human adult, sucking them dry.

_Unbelievable. The fools._

Vampires aren't accustomed to being caught off-guard – they can always hear, or especially, _smell_ something coming. By the time the tall, shaggy brown-haired one realized there was someone else in the room, his head was twisted completely backwards with one swift turn of my hands. Ideally, I would have removed the appendage altogether to be sure he wouldn't cause me any more trouble, but the deep crunching sound assured me every bone and connected nerve in his neck had been severed, so I dropped him to the ground, bracing for a counter-attack from his partner. The other vampire was good – I could tell he had been trained in hand-to-hand combat. He came at me low, striking at my leg from eight inches off the ground. I was able to side-step his lunge, but my counter-strike kick narrowly missed, and he rolled back into a defensive crouch on the other side of the room. I reached out with my ability, trying to get a general roadmap of his central nervous system, as he rushed toward me again. This time, he tried a power move, planting his shoulder squarely into my torso. I leaned away from it, getting my hand under his chin as he drove me to the ground, to prevent him from biting me. There were open flames right outside the door – just one breakage of skin could be disastrously fatal.

As soon as we hit the ground, I used our momentum to continue, rolling over until I was the one on top. I knew a cheap kill-shot wouldn't work on him, so I stalled, landing a few punches to his face, as my knees pinned his arms down. He quickly freed one of his legs, throwing me off to one side and jumping immediately in that direction. Before he hit the ground, I found what I was looking for in his spine, and reached out with my ability, cutting down the impulses to his arms. At the same time, I placed my own arms into position, and caught his leg as he landed, applying pressure on his knee from either side until I heard the resounding crunch of his bones snapping. He let out a cry of pain, falling back away from me. I got a little hasty, and went for the head shot, and received a swift kick in the head from his good leg. The kick had a lot of power behind it, and the room went blurry for a moment. I was vaguely aware of his position, and caught hold of his shirt as he jumped at me again. I was intending to use his weight to thrust him through the wall into the next room, but the shirt tore, and he ended up on top of me. As we struggled for a moment there on the ground, rolling around, each trying to get a hold of the other's head, I saw the survivor out of the corner of my eye – a boy, no more than ten years old, hiding under the bed. He looked unconscious, probably from smoke inhalation. I needed to end this fight quickly.

I pulled my attention back to the attacker, and reached into his brain with my ability, squeezing down on the impulses out of his cerebellum just long enough to give me an advantage. I batted his hands out of the way, head-butting him with all the force that I had. Before he could recover, I slammed my fist against his now-exposed neck, flipped myself over to his back side and tore the head completely off his body. I dropped the lifeless head and rushed over to the bed, flipping it out of the way and grabbing the boy. At that point, I wasn't worried about clean-up – the flames would most likely reach the room soon enough and burn up the fallen bodies, both human and vampire. All I was worried about was keeping the boy alive. I knelt down with him in my arms, looking into his body to gauge his lung function. He was struggling to get any oxygen, but it looked like I could help a little. I used my mind to coax things into at least a workable rhythm, and bolted for the door frame, which was now on fire. Before I took two steps on the hall, I was met by a powerful blow to the side of the head. I looked back as I fell to the ground, dismayed to see not one, but _two_ more vampires in the hall, intent on avenging their fallen comrades.

_Great. Can it get any worse?_

I dropped the boy, rolling my body as I fell backwards, so that I ended up in a defensive stance. The other two inched forward cautiously, speaking to each other in a lowered tone. When I listened more carefully, I realized they were speaking Hungarian.

"Be careful – I think he's a special," the taller one said, eying me warily. "He killed Charles and Maxwell."

"Let's take him high-low," the shorter one replied quickly. He looked less confident than the others, more inexperienced. I would take him first.

"I'll take the high," the tall one said, circling slightly to my left.

I reached out with my mind, and got a handle on the mechanics of his knee as he coiled to strike. All I had time for was a quick pinch – I needed to keep my concentration for the scared one. They came at me in almost perfect unison, the tall one from my left, the rookie from my right. I timed the knee malfunction for the tall one just right – instead of leaping through the air at me, he tripped and went stumbling right by me. I knew the other one was coming low, so I shifted in his direction, arching my body up and over his lunge, and wrapping my arms around his waist from the back. I curled my body around mid-air, and flung him to the fiery end of the hall like a rag doll. As soon as I could get back to my feet, the tall one had recovered, and was running toward me again. He tried a wall-jump, coming at me from the upper-right hand side. I calculated his move before he could even pull it off, coming under him and getting a grip on his thigh. With a quick swing of my upper body, I flung him toward his friend, who had narrowly escaped getting burned, and was crouched and ready for another attack.

I was about to go on the offensive, when I heard the sound of weak coughing coming from behind me. I wouldn't risk a glance, but I could tell from listening that the boy's heartbeat was growing faint. I needed to get him to medical attention as soon as possible. The two vampires must have picked up on it, too.

"He's trying to protect the child," the taller one said, still unaware that I spoke Hungarian fluently. "I'll go after him, you take the child. He'll be distracted that way."

The frightened-looking one nodded his head nervously. I backed up slowly, staying close to the boy. The tall one rushed in first this time. I could have used my mind to limit him, but I didn't want to give up any peripheral senses, in case the other one came at me, so I defended myself the old-fashioned way. For all the training these hit-men seemed to have, they were sorely lacking in the area of disguising their intentions. I knew where the tall one was going before he got there, and his next advance ended with my foot crushing his jaw and sending him flying down the hall. The sheepish one timed his attack well, though, and I wasn't able to block his charge effectively, so I ended up grabbing onto his shoulder and taking him to the ground with me. We rolled down the hall for a moment, while I worked to get into position for a kill-strike. I decided to risk using my ability, and I numbed his arm long enough to get quick access to his neck. I bit into him, slicing easily through muscle and tissue, and took his head completely off in a flash. Without even giving him a second thought, I turned to find the tall one. Somehow, he had gotten behind me, and was holding the boy up by his hair.

"Come and get your pet," he snarled, speaking in English this time. I was about to oblige him, when, from out of nowhere, a white hand burst through the wall beside him, grabbing him by the hair and yanking him off his feet. Before I could respond, I saw the rest of Jasper's body break through the wall, followed by Alice and Harvey.

_Reinforcements. Well, that's a welcome surprise._

The three of them had the tall vampire into pieces in a matter of seconds, after which they came to check and see if I was alright.

"The cavalry has arrived," Jasper said with a smirk.

"Are you okay?" Alice asked, her eyebrows creased in concern. "You got all indecisive there, and I couldn't see anything."

"I'm fine. You're all a little late, though. I handled the other three myself."

"Yeah, but you didn't even know about the one by the fire escape, did ya?" Harvey asked with a cocky smile.

"The fire escape? When?" _Oh no – I sent all the humans that way..._

"Oh, about ninety seconds ago," Jasper answered with a cool swagger. "He went down like a rookie – never even saw us coming."

"I hate to break up your macho convention, but we need to get out of here," Alice said, still concerned. "It's almost sunrise, and in case you hadn't noticed, the whole building is on fire."

"Let's go," I replied. "I need to get this boy to... the..."

I trailed off as I looked down at him, feeling sick to my stomach. He was lying on the ground, breathing deeply as he convulsed in pain. The tall vampire had bitten him.

"Well, that's not good," Jasper said, coming to the same conclusion that I did, as we all looked at the quivering boy.

"Let's go. Now," Alice urged.

"Hey, we can't just leave him here," I said, confused by her response. "I'll carry him out."

Alice's eyes went wide with fear for a moment, as she stared off into space.

"Jasper, no. It won't end well... for any of us." She grabbed onto his arm.

"Grant, we can't help this boy. The Volturi are very strict about immortal children. The punishment is death – for the child, and for anyone who facilitates them."

"But... he's just a boy," I countered, trying to understand what the problem was. "I'll look after him if I have to..."

"You know how dangerous and unpredictable a newborn is?" Jasper asked, taking a stern tone. "Well, it's ten times as worse with children. They just don't have the maturity to respect the rules and restrain themselves. Trust me."

"So what, we just leave him to fend for himself?" Harvey asked, jumping in on the conversation.

"No, we do the only decent thing we can for him," Jasper replied with a tinge of remorse.

"And what's that?" I asked.

"End his suffering."

"You can't be serious..." I didn't go through all that effort to turn around and kill him myself.

"He _is_ suffering, Grant. I can feel it. Besides, the Volturi will do it if we don't, and only after a lot of people have died in the mean time."

I hated it, but I had to defer to his experience on this issue. The boy didn't deserve to die, but neither do the untold scores of victims he would claim if we let him complete the transformation.

"Fine. You're right," I conceded. "You do it, though. I can't."

"I'm sorry, little fella," Jasper said, snapping his neck like a twig, and tossing his body into the fire. "Under different circumstances..."

"The firemen are here, Jasper," Alice said, overly anxious to get out of the building. "They'll be on this floor in less than ten minutes. We need to take care of the bodies and get out while we still can."

Alice was right – we didn't want to miss our chance and be trapped in a burning building. We gathered up all the pieces of our fallen enemies and threw them into the open flames at the end of the hall (which was now more like the entire hall), taking extra care not to get any venom on us in the process. The vampire bodies burned violently, letting off thick billows of dark purple smoke as the tissue turned to ash. Even when it was my enemy's demise, it was still an intimidating thing, watching an otherwise-indestructible body like my own be destroyed so easily. It made me want to get out of the building all the more. That became a problem when we went back to the stairwell. There were now open flames raging through the entirety of the tall, square room, fueled by the abundance of oxygen in the upper regions of the passageway.

"Well, that's not gonna work," Harvey said, as the four of us stood outside the burning room.

"We could try running through it – there should be a clearing a couple stories up," Jasper suggested.

"Nope. Bad idea," Alice replied, looking a little troubled. "Any other plans?"

"We could go through the ceiling," I suggested. "Once we're a few stories up, we can use the external fire escape... or just jump out a window."

Alice looked away for a moment. "Yeah, that'll do. Good thinking."

We followed my plan, tearing a hole through the ceiling, and climbing to the fourth floor, which was somehow even more inflamed than the third. After checking briefly for survivors, we repeated the process, climbing all the way up to the eight floor before it seemed safe enough to make our exit. To our dismay, the sun had already broken the horizon, and sunlight was streaming in over the fire escape ladder.

"Well, this just keeps getting better and better," Harvey said dryly.

"That's okay. We're gonna take a different approach," Alice said, unconcerned. We followed her as she took the now-safe staircase up to the 22nd floor, stepping onto the hallway and kicking down the door to one of the rooms there. We waited in the hall to keep an eye out for witnesses, as she entered the room, tearing out the window with her hands, and taking a look down below. There was an adjacent building next door, the roof of which was about twenty feet below, all conveniently shadowed by the Ashcroft Hotel.

"See. I told you," Alice said in a know-it-all tone.

"We can enter through the roof access and lay low inside until the sun goes down," Jasper said, as we all joined Alice at the window.

Alice jumped over first, easily escaping detection in the dark morning shadows. Nobody was looking in that direction anyway – they were all focused on the out-of-control flames 20 stories below. Jasper was about to go next when I grabbed his shoulder.

"You three go on ahead of me," I said casually. "I heard some survivors a few floors down. I'm going to go get them out first, and then I'll come over."

"The fire department's here, I'm sure they can handle it," he replied reassuringly.

"No, I caused this – I need to make it right."

"It's not your fault, Grant," Harvey interjected.

"Even so, I need to help them. I'll only be a few minutes."

Jasper grimaced, looking over at Alice. She must have given him some kind of "it'll be okay" look.

"Do what you need to do," he said with a slight sigh. "Just don't take too long."

"I'll be over before you know it," I replied. Jasper jumped over to join Alice, and they turned back to wait for Harvey. He didn't move.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" I asked him, as he stood there with a slightly frustrated expression.

"If you're staying, then so am I," he said, determined.

"That's not necessary."

"It wasn't a request. Besides, I'm not letting you get all the hero action today."

"Fine. Just be careful," I conceded reluctantly.

"Aren't I always?" he replied with a wink and a cheesy grin.

_Great. Now I'm_ really_ concerned._

The two of us went through the building floor-by-floor, pulling people out of flame-covered rooms, carrying unconscious victims to safety, and trying to avoid the human firefighters whenever possible. Philippe's men had done a good job of preparing the building to burn – there were open flames on every floor from the 1st to the 29th. We each got our share of surface-burns, but neither I nor Harvey ever caught on fire, which was practically a miracle. We stayed in the building for another 40 minutes, carrying people down to safety. By the end of the time, I was the one who was wanting to leave, and Harvey was the one pushing to stay for just one more rescue. There was something about the whole process that energized him, whether it was the danger, or the life-saving, or something else altogether.

Eventually, we reached a point where we had to leave, but not before we personally rescued 108 people. It was a drop in the bucket, relatively speaking, but it felt good to save lives, especially after we had just finished taking them. We jumped over to the next-door building, which was an apartment complex, and caught up with Jasper and Alice, who were waiting patiently in the mechanical room on the top floor.

"Hey guys, done being heroes for the day?" Jasper asked, as we stepped into the noisy room filled with heating and air units.

"We saved over a hundred people," Harvey said with pride, as we came and sat next to them. "It was a rush."

"I wish we could have been more help," Alice said regretfully, "but we're both pretty thirsty, and with people being injured and all... we didn't want to risk having a breakdown."

I knew she was probably talking about Jasper – he had told me on numerous occasions how he was having a harder time than the rest of the family abstaining from human blood. I understood his position – for someone who had lived for years taking live, fresh human blood whenever he wanted it, abstinence was a lot to ask.

"That's okay," I said, not wanting either of them to feel bad. "Between us and the New York Fire Department, we got everybody out."

"Okay, so now that that's over," Harvey spoke up, "who the hell were those guys?"

Before I could answer, Alice interrupted with a little explanation.

"I tried to get a note to you as soon as I saw the... well, the bad future. I was afraid you wouldn't get it, so I brought reinforcements just in case."

"I did get the note, actually, but I didn't read it until it was too late for avoiding conflict. It's... a long story. Anyway, to answer Harvey's question, those were hit men working for Philippe DeChevalier."

"Should've known it was him. I'd rip him in half if he actually had the balls to do his own fighting," Harvey said bitterly. I was hoping to leave Coraline out of it as much as possible. My brother had come a long way from his former days of practically despising her – I didn't want him to have any reason to go back there.

"He followed Coraline here, but it wasn't her fault," I continued. "She took every imaginable precaution – she had know way of knowing-"

"It's fine," Alice said, interrupting. "We know it wasn't her fault."

"Don't worry. I don't hate your girlfriend," Harvey said, with a hint of humor in his tone. "But I am a bit peeved at her for not marrying you."

"You know about that?" I asked, a little embarrassed.

"I may have done a little spying," Alice said, sheepishly. "Sorry, I just couldn't resist. That ring was going to look so perfect on her finger. I'm a little mad at you for throwing it in the river."

"Yes, what can I say... I was upset."

"That's okay. We all understand."

"Thanks, everybody. I don't know where I'd be without your support."

"On the third floor," Jasper joked.

_Too true_. I was lucky to have friends so faithful.

We checked the sky periodically through the day, and by mid-afternoon, there was a decent cloud cover over the city. Harvey had carpooled with Jasper and Alice from their house to the city, but my car was still in the impound, so we let them go back on their own, and my brother and I went out to retrieve my car. We spent the rest of the day and evening in New York before heading back home. Harvey and I probably didn't say ten words to each other the entire trip – I was too preoccupied. I couldn't help thinking of how terribly mangled the whole situation with Coraline had become, and worrying about her well-being. The thought of her with those brutes made me bristle with anger. When Philippe learned that all five of his men had been lost trying to kill me, he would no doubt be furious, and I knew there was a chance he would decide to take it out on Coraline. There was nothing I could do, though. I kept telling myself that fact over and over, though I often had trouble believing it.

All I could do was wait and hope. And write letters.


	13. Chapter 12

_12. GROUNDED_

- - - CORALINE GRAY - - -

"Coraline, can you hear me? Are you alright? You may still be experiencing some mild soreness, but you should be fine in a short while."

The world was back, but it was a blurry fog, like being underwater. And that 'mild soreness?' It was like I had been run over by a semi truck... and then hit by a train.

"Coraline? Can you understand what I am saying?"

Mbete's heavily-accented voice was strangely soothing, especially for a huge war machine of a vampire. I didn't really feel like talking, but otherwise he might feel the need to go get help, and I certainly didn't feel like seeing anyone else.

"I feel like crap," I answered in a groggy slur.

He chuckled lightly. "I do not envy your position, young Coraline. Perhaps if you would stay within your boundaries, these things would not happen to you so often."

"I don't feel up for a lecture, Mbete. I'm fine. Go away."

"My apologies, ma'am, but I have orders not to leave the room until he has decided what to do with you."

"By 'he,' you mean Philippe..."

"Yes. He is too angry to speak about it at the moment. With luck, he may come to a decision by the end of the day."

_Awesome._

"Hey, is there any part of my body you guys _didn't_ break? Seriously, I feel like garbage."

"We were not expecting to have to bring you back here by force. You had to fit into two large suitcases. I am sorry, we did the best we could."

"You packed me into a _suitcase_?"

"Yes. Into two of them."

"Unbelievable. Alright, can you at least... wait in the living room, or something?"

There wasn't much of a point in keeping me at my own house if I couldn't have any privacy.

"I won't tell. Promise," I added.

"You are quite the rebel, are you not?" He said with a laugh. "Very well. But if Philippe is angered, I will direct him to you."

"Fair enough. Now, go."

Mbete left me alone in my room – a place I didn't leave for a very long time. Philippe finally decided on my punishment. I was grounded for six months. No outings, no phone calls, no visitors, except for Harriet, who was allowed to bring me bottled blood once a week. Everything I did was supervised, including those visits. I was crafty though. If there was a way to get around the rules, I would find it.

By my third week in captivity, I had already come up with a plan. Philippe kept two guards posted right outside my house night and day. They were easily within earshot of any conversation I had with Harriet, even with the stereo blasting. They were out of sight, though, which gave me a little wiggle room. As soon as I smelled Harriet coming with my weekly meal, I turned on a little classic Wagner and pulled out my pen and notepad, tucking it under my seat cushion, in case one of the guards decided to walk in with her. She came alone this time, and as soon as the door shut behind her, I whipped out my writing utensils.

"Hey, Hattie. How's it going?"

God, I have been DYING to see you. Are you sure it's been just a week?

She sat down on the over-sized lounge chair next to me, picking up a pen of her own and reading my note on the pad we shared.

"Oh, you know. Pretty much the same."

I KNOW! I didn't realize how spoiled I was, getting to talk to you all the time. This stinks really bad.

Have you heard anything from Grant?

Is he okay?

Harriet had been in contact with Grant from the moment she heard I was back in town early. They talked on the phone so much, I was actually a little jealous. She told me that he made it out of the building alright, and that he and Harvey killed Craig, Pinehurst, and three of Philippe's other thugs. Grant was lucky that Philippe didn't bring along any of his specials, other than Guan Ho Pi, the Chinese guy with the sound-thing. He was still alive, so he must have been the other one carrying me home in a suitcase.

"Did you and Wesley do anything special this week?" I asked, trying to speak frequently enough to keep the guards outside from getting suspicious.

"Not really. We're thinking about taking a trip to Fiji, though, just for a change of scenery."

Wait-seriously?

Yeah.

When?

Next Month.

You can't. I need you to keep me connected.

Speaking of...

"Well, that sounds nice. I'm sure Fiji is great this time of year."

Speaking of Grant, I have something for you.

Harriet smiled anxiously, pulling a folded envelope out of her purse. There was no return address, but I could smell it easily – it was from Grant. And it had been opened.

Hey, why is this opened?

She shrunk down sheepishly.

Sorry. Had to make sure it was really him.

I can't believe you read my mail! You're so nosy!

You're right. I'm such a horrible sister, risking my life to bring you your mail, and having a stupid written conversation when I'm sitting right next to you.

"So are you bored to death being here all by yourself?"

This conversation isn't stupid. And just because you do something nice doesn't mean you're not nosy.

Shut up and read the note already.

Fine!

"Yeah. This has been the longest three weeks of my life."

I opened the envelope and pulled out the letter, taking time to smell it slowly before reading. I loved that scent. Just smelling it brought me more comfort than words can describe. I could have taken longer on the smelling-part, but Harriet was impatient, so I unfolded it and started reading.

Sept. 21 1979

My dearest Coraline,

First of all, let me tell you how very sorry I am that our being together has gotten you into so much trouble. I wish there was something I could do to improve your situation, but Harriet, along with my brother, has assured me that I am powerless to change a thing.

With that said, I would like you to know how truly sorry I am for the things I said to you in New York. I was completely out of line to use your feelings for me as a leverage tool to manipulate you into doing what I wanted. I hope you know how deeply I care for you. Coraline, you are the entire world to me. I will wait for you, whether itís fourteen years or fourteen hundred. The moment you are free, I will be waiting with arms open wide.

I hope you can forgive me for my ill-advised words; I would be most delighted to hear back from you. Until then, know you have my undying

affection and devotion.

-Grant

.

Harriet started scribbling before I had even put the letter down.

So, what do you think? You forgive him, right?

"What's the weather like in Greece right now, Hattie?"

It's none of your business, Harriet. And yes, of course I forgive him. Are you kidding me?

_How could I begrudge a man for telling me that he loves me?_

Good. So, do you want to write him back real quick before I go?

"Warm and mildly cloudy. A lot like here, actually."

Yeah. But not with you looking over my shoulder.

Technically, I'm not looking over your anything.

You know what I mean. Get lost for a minute or two.

"I keep telling Wesley he needs to come with me to visit you, but he's always too busy gambling or something."

I'll give you time, but first, we have to finish talking.

About what?

"That's too bad. I'd love to talk to him. Of course, I'm probably not allowed to."

I heard a rumor that Philippe might be getting investigated for some stuff he's doing with the specials.

Really? Like what?

I don't know for sure, but it sounds pretty serious. I hope he gets canned. Then maybe you could get out of here.

Fat chance.

They'd just throw me back underground in Volterra.

It's totally unfair. You've put in enough time.

Tell me about it.

I'm gonna talk to Chelsea tonight, we're going to the opera together in Rome. She's Philippe's booty-call-of-the-month, so I'll bet she knows a lot more about it.

He is such a womanizer.

I believe the correct term is "man-ho."

We both giggled, which reminded us to keep talking.

"I'm going to the opera tonight."

Harriet Blackburn! I think that's the dirtiest thing you've ever said.

I didn't say anything.

"Oh, really? What are you watching?"

It still counts, potty-mouth.

"Tosca. Not my favorite, but I hear they've got a really great new tenor."

I guess I'll leave you to write your "I forgive you, Grant, please come make sweet love to me" letter.

Very Funny. You need to spend more time with me. I think your morals are wearing off.

I can read between the lines...

"Oh, Grant, why don't you take what I'm wearing off."

Get out before I hurt you.

"I'm gonna go put your stuff in the refrigerator," she said, as she got up and left me. I tore off the sheet with our notes on it, staring at the blank sheet of paper for a minute before I started my reply to Grant. There was so much I wanted to say to him, but there was no way I could get it all down on paper, much less do it in the two minutes or so that I had before Harriet had to leave.

_Get used to it, Coraline. This is how it's gonna be for a while now. Way to screw everything up._

I sighed and started writing my response.

_Ugh! I hate letters. Okay, well, here goes..._

October 4, 1979

Grant,

Of course I forgive you! Don't you dare spend one more minute worrying about that. We both said and did some things we wish we could take back, but that's all over now. The important thing is that we move forward. Together.

I'm very relieved to hear that you're okay. It was my fault that Philippe found us. I was getting way too careless with the trips. I'm so sorry. I think I may have totally screwed up any chance we had of seeing each other again for a long time. I feel like crying. The fact that you're willing to wait for me just proves how amazing a guy you really are. I can't think of too many guys that would be willing to wait for one year, much less fifty. We're getting close, though. Only fourteen and a half more, and then we can be together forever. I can't wait until that day.

I don't have time to write, so I'll end this letter telling you how much I miss you and how deeply I care for you. It's more than words can say. Be safe, and please write back a.s.a.p.

Missing you more than ever,

-Coraline


	14. Chapter 13

_13. LONDON_

- - - GRANT WILLOUGHBY - - -

There's a reason why responsible parents don't allow their children to eat dessert before the main course at dinner. It's the same reason why cruise lines offer free weekend getaways, and why doctors often administer acetaminophen or codeine before prescribing morphine as a pain-reliever. Once we've had a taste of the good life, it's hard to go back to normal.

It had been four years since my ill-fated rendezvous with Coraline in New York, and I was still feeling the withdrawals. Fortunately, this wasn't the first time she had been abruptly pulled out of my life, and I had developed ways to cope with the void she left. Once her six-month punishment period with Philippe was over, she was allowed to roam the town again, and we could at least talk on the phone. She couldn't visit, though. The only time she ever left Italy was under close supervision, and after what happened in New York, we both felt it was too risky to try seeing each other in person. A long-distance relationship was all we could manage.

I did the best I could, but some days, it still wasn't enough. I missed her. I needed to be with her. My life simply wasn't right without her. It was on one of those days that I was sitting on the front porch of my home outside Toronto, trying to put enough attention into grading papers to get my mind off of Coraline, at least for a few minutes.

It wasn't working.

Thankfully, I had Harvey.

I could hear the signature sound of his Harley Davidson motorcycle roaring down the long, winding road to the house, exceeding safe operational speeds, as always. Harvey collected motorcycles the way I collected cars. He had six different classics parked in his own, separate garage (all Harley's), and he always had a new model that he would drive for a year and trade in. This particular time, he was driving his '79 model, and he was pushing it hard. The wide tires whined as he pulled the curves extra-fast, and in less time than I was used to, I saw his leather-clad figure swing around the last bend in the road, riding the red and chrome motorcycle like a comet. I caught his face as he pulled the bike to a stop, leaping off of it and continuing forward with one seamless motion. Something was wrong. Even with his dark, aviator-style sunglasses covering his eyes, I could see the look of frustration and concern in his forehead and mouth. Trying to remain calm, I laid the Botany essays down, and spoke without rising from my chair.

"Hey, Harv. What's going on?"

He was walking, but it was fast and determined. "I screwed up," he said, his voice betraying the anxiety behind the frustrated face. I let out a quiet sigh, as that sinking feeling started to form in my stomach. We had been doing well for so long that sometimes I forgot we were all killers, just one bad situation away from ending an innocent life. Or two. Or even more...

"How many, Harvey?" I asked, trying to keep the same calm, even tone my mother used to have in these types of situations. It wasn't easy, though. I thought back to the woman I had scented and almost killed back in Havana so many years ago, imagining what the scene would have looked like, had my brother not stepped in. I also remembered the aftermath of Harvey's newborn killing spree – covering his steps, cleaning up the emptied-out bodies. I knew whatever answer he gave me, I would still love and support him, but I was really hoping for a low number.

"How many what?" He asked, now sounding more frustrated.

"How many did you kill? Was it more than one?"

His eyebrows creased with indignation as he slowly took the final few steps to the porch. "I didn't kill anyone," he replied, a little offended that I suggested it. He removed the sunglasses to reveal his normal mahogany eyes, as if I might not otherwise believe him.

"Okay," I replied slowly, relieved that he hadn't killed anyone, but still apprehensive. _What else would have him so upset?_ "So, what did you-"

"I _saved_ somebody, I didn't kill anyone," he interrupted angrily, as if he were talking as much to himself as to me.

"Okay..." _I'm guessing there's an explanation..._

He sighed sharply, looking blankly at the ground as he explained. "We were at an apartment fire over on the southeast side. Dunn and Talbot were on point; Bruce and I went in second to check the lower levels. Talbot gave the all-clear upstairs, and he and Dunn left. I heard a small heartbeat – a kid – underneath some furniture. I knew I couldn't get to him without being super-human, so I left Bruce and went to pull the kid out. Stupid, _stupid_!" He digressed.

Ever since my visit to New York, Harvey had been inexplicably fascinated with fire. I caught him on several occasions breaking our strict "no fire" policy in the house, lighting candles, newspapers, tree limbs, and pretty much anything else flammable with the matches he wasn't supposed to have. Lucy and I both gave him stern speeches about the danger of playing with fire, but that only seemed to encourage his behavior. I figured it was the adventurous, daring side of him that enjoyed it so much. That was probably why he signed up as a volunteer firefighter at a local suburban fire station. He loved the thrill of cheating death. Somewhere inside, I think he loved saving lives, too. He didn't talk about it – none of us ever did – but I knew he still carried guilt for the lives he took in Havana, and quite possibly, for the countless ones he ended while working for the British special forces.

No amount of pleading or threatening by Lucy or myself could dissuade him from fighting fires, so we reluctantly accepted it. I didn't know how it played into this supposed failure he was trying to tell me about, but I was growing too nervous to wait for him to stumble to the conclusion of his story.

"Go on..." I said, still waiting for the punch-line, so to speak.

"Well, I got the kid out, no problem. I took off half my gear to make it easier to give him C-P-R. I was working on him for at least two or three minutes before I realized that Bruce was still inside. McDonald came over, and was chewing on me for it pretty bad. I told him it was my mistake, and that I'd go back in and get him. So, I ran back in through the side door, and I found him, but he was real messed up – ceiling caved in and pinned him down. The trusses overhead were gonna go at any minute, and then we'd both be toast, so, I reacted. It was stupid, I just... I got caught up in the moment."

"What exactly did you do?"

"I pulled him out, and the two of us busted through the wall to get outside."

"Well, that's not so bad. The walls may have been compromised with the heat. It's very plausible that-"

"It was a _brick_ wall, Grant."

"Oh."

"It didn't even register with me until I saw the look on Tony's face. He and Talbot saw the whole thing, and they were gawking like they'd just seen superman or something."

"Did you try explaining?"

"What's there to explain? I ran into a burning building, without all my gear, and came back out by turning a brick wall into dust. There's really no explaining that."

"Damn. Who else knows?"

"Well, McDonald, for starters. And everyone will believe him. I heard the guys whispering about it. They all think I'm some kind of freak. McDonald's gonna have to call it in – he probably already has. I'm totally blown. My cover is blown."

By this point, Harvey was pacing in a small circle, running his fingers through his hair and exhaling sharply through tight lips. The stress he was under was painfully visible. I felt it too, I just tried to disguise it. The last thing he needed was a panicked older brother.

"It's not a problem, Harv," I lied, trying to calm him down. "We knew this day would come sooner or later. Let's just take a deep breath and think about this. Do the other firemen know where we live?"

"Yeah. Of course. I brought Bruce and Tony over here a few months ago, remember?"

"You're right. Well, that won't give us much time, then."

"What are we gonna do? Can we find a way to wipe their minds, or something? Maybe we can call Persephone..."

"No, it's too late for that," I replied, coming to the unfortunate conclusion as I talked through it. "Too many people know. By now, the witnesses will have told others. It's a newsworthy story."

"What'll we do, then?"

"Move. We pack up everything and leave town as soon as possible."

"Crap. _Crap_! I am so sorry..."

"Don't beat yourself up about it, Harv. We all make mistakes."

"But Lucy's just now really settled and enjoying things. And what about her practice? It took her six months just to get it off the ground. I don't want to make her toss all that work in the garbage."

"We'll rebuild. If we did it once, we can do it again. Does she know yet?" She was out at a church function at the time.

"No. I came straight here from the fire."

"Alright. Here's what we're going to do. You take your bike and go pick up Lucy. I'll go commandeer a tractor-trailer, and we'll load up everything we can tonight. We can come back for the cars and motorcycles later."

"Grant... I'm sorry."

"It's fine, Harvey. Go get Lucy, and we'll be out of town in less than two hours."

"Where are we gonna go?"

"Let me call the Cullens – maybe they'll let us lie low for a while until we get things sorted out."

"Thanks, man," he said, looking me in the eyes before reaching out to give me a back-slapping hug. "You're a good brother."

"So are you, Harv. Now, get going."

My plan wasn't much of a plan at all, just a jumble of quick decisions, but it got us safely out of town before the public came looking for us. I called the Cullens to ask if we could stay with them, and Esme informed me that they would be greatly offended if we _didn't_ come, so we took our tractor-trailer (for which I paid $90,000 cash to a thrilled trucker) and brought our movable possessions down to New York for a while. It was hard, leaving our life in Toronto on such short notice. Jasper and Emmett helped us sneak back up and retrieve our vehicles, but we had to leave the house and many of our possessions behind, as well as Lucy's medical practice and our Mortuary business. Harvey took it quite hard, but in time, he was able to forgive himself, and we moved on.

The time we spent with the Cullens was somewhere between summer vacation and a childhood sleep-over, which was very therapeutic for the three of us. Harvey and Emmet were like long-lost buddies, playing every competitive game imaginable, and turning just about everything neutral into some sort of competition. Carlisle brought me into the hospital for a few special 'consultations,' and I learned a great deal from him about the practice of medicine. Lucy and Alice designed an entire spring wardrobe for Rosalie, who modeled it for a professional-type fashion portfolio. And of course, the whole group got out to play baseball at every sign of inclement weather. As nice as it was to be with friends, though, it wasn't a permanent solution to our problem. We needed a new place to live.

I went back to my old list of potential cities, checking up on whatever information I could gather about current vampire occupation, and came up with a few workable solutions. Lucy didn't like any of them, though. She had her sights set on London, and nothing else lived up. Harvey was soon on her side, and they were practically insistent on moving the family to their own idea of heaven-on-earth (at least, from a vampire's perspective). Carlisle cautioned us strongly against going, informing us that London had always been a violent and lawless town for vampires, and one not welcoming to outsiders. Esme offered to build onto the house and have us stay with them indefinitely. Even I campaigned against it, but Harvey and Lucy were dead-set on moving to London, so to London we went.

When I agreed to go along with the move, I was expecting us to find a nice, secluded spot out of town, within reasonable commuting distance, much as we always had before. What I soon learned, as we arrived in town to search for our new house, was that Harvey and Lucy's dream scenario was to live right in the middle of town. I grew tired of fighting against it, so I turned the house-search over to them, focusing instead on buying out a suitable mortuary for our blood supply.

Within three days, I had accomplished my task, and they had accomplished theirs – a sprawling, 4-bedroom loft apartment in Knightsbridge, one of the most sought-after housing areas in all of London. The rent alone was nearly 6,000 pounds per month, but we had the money, so we purchased all-new furniture and accessories, and moved into our chic new living quarters. We spent the rest of our first week in town decorating the loft with all the finest modern touches and updating our wardrobes to match the dressy, upper-class attire of the region. It was all a bit ostentatious, really – I should have known it would lead to trouble.

On the evening of our sixth day in London, Harvey, Lucy and I were on our way back to the loft, arms laden with shopping bags, when I smelled that all-too-familiar sweet fragrance coming from the apartment building. It seemed the local vampires, who had, up until that point, remained out of sight, had come to pay us a visit.

We climbed the stairs to our 18th floor loft with trepidation, unsure of whether this was a friendly visit or a... _less than_ friendly one. As soon as we opened the door, we realized it was the latter. The entire living room had been ransacked – furniture overturned, papers scattered across the floor, drawers and cupboards emptied out.

Walking around the corner to meet us with a slow, deliberate swagger were three tall, lanky vampires, all dressed in finely tailored suits. It had been a while since I had been outside of my sheltered vampire-bubble – I had forgotten just how bright-red one's eyes could get when they were fed with live human blood. All three of these looked as if they had just fed recently, which probably explained the nature of their visit.

"Welcome to London," the one in the middle said with an almost mockingly casual tone. He had a square jaw and honey-blond hair that looked to be about chin-length when it wasn't slicked back (as it was at the time). "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Charles, and these two fellows are Stuart and Stewart."

"What are you doing in our house?" Harvey asked coldly through nearly clenched teeth.

"My associates and I are not accustomed to strangers just dropping into our city unannounced, so we came by to assess the nature of your visit. Judging by the look of things, I believe you have been somewhat misinformed."

"Misinformed about what?" I asked, trying to speak calmly enough to keep Harvey from doing anything rash. He looked like a race horse waiting for the gate to open.

"This is not an open city," one of the "Stuarts" said, taking a step forward. "This is _our _territory that you're playing house in."

"And we don't take kindly to guests who over-stay their welcome," the other "Stuart/Stewart" added.

"And just what is the 'welcome?'" Harvey asked.

"You've already over-stayed it significantly," Charles replied flatly, all polite facades aside.

"Gentlemen," I said in a friendly, business-like tone, "there are well over seven million people in town. I'm sure there's enough to go around. Besides, we only drink from those who are already dead. We pose no threat to you or your hunting population."

"Ah, you see, my friend," Charles replied, "your mere presence here is a threat to our hunting population. This city is crowded already. There is simply no room for you."

"You call six vampires out of seven million a crowd?" Harvey asked incredulously.

"No, no. There were already nine of us here before you three arrived. My associates and I control the central and western portions of the city. There is another four-person coven that have jurisdiction of the northern regions, and a pair of mates that hunt in the south. We have all reached an agreement to divide the city's spoils... and provide for mutual protection against outside threats." He delivered the last line with a lowered tone and narrowed eyes.

_So there are more than just the three of them. Or they're bluffing._

"Listen, Charles," I said, still working to keep things civil, "as I said, we won't be consuming any live humans at all. We don't want to cause trouble, but we just moved in here. Perhaps you could give us a few months to get settled in, and you can test our claims to see if they're true. If, after that time, you still feel that it's too crowded, then we'll relocate."

Charles' face turned cold and hard, as he stepped forward menacingly. I wasn't a short man by anyone's standards, but he towered over me, along with his two sidekicks. Harvey stepped forward to meet them, Lucy hid herself behind him.

_So much for friendly negotiations._

"Don't mistake our politeness for weakness," Charles said with a threatening edge to his tone. "The only grace you will be given is the opportunity to leave town alive, right now."

"How 'bout I rip that cocky head off your body, and then we talk about 'grace,'" Harvey snapped back, just inches from the Englishmen. I placed my hand firmly on his chest, backing him away slowly as I tried one more time to work out a diplomatic solution. I knew the three of us could take them in a fight, but we didn't come here to cause a scene, and I was afraid of retaliation from the other covens.

"Let's calm down, everyone," I said firmly, but softly. "We don't wish to fight you. We didn't realize we were trespassing on your territory, and we will make arrangements to leave as soon as possible. However, I would like to ask, who hunts in the eastern segment of the city? Is that area spoken for?"

"You talking about far east, or the slums?" The "Stuart" on the left spoke up in response to my question. "Timothy and Mary-Ann consider the far east to be part of their area."

"And what of the slums?" I replied, still inching Harvey back with my hand.

"The slums are a wasteland," Charles answered. "A foul lot of under-fed, over-drugged street urchins. It's not worth hunting in."

"Then we'll collect our blood there," I said, hopeful that we may have found a way out of the stand-off. "You can consider us the catfish of your ecosystem. We'll take the ones no one else wants."

The three of them took a few steps back and whispered amongst themselves for a minute or two, before addressing my suggestion.

"You don't get a region," Charles said, lightening his tone slightly. "However... if what you say about your hunting is true, then the slums will meet your needs. We will give you six months to prove yourselves. If you can stay out of our way and leave our population untainted, then we will

_consider_ allowing you to stay. Make no mistake, though, if you make any attempt to steal a human from our territory, if you even interfere with our hunting, we won't hesitate to burn the lot of you. Understand?"

"We understand," I answered meekly.

"Good. Now, you've got five hours to get your things out of here. You'd best get a move on it."

With that, the three tall vampires left, brushing shoulders with Harvey on the way out. He was fuming. The second they were out of earshot, he let me know how angry he was.

"What happened to your spine, Grant? You're just gonna let those snobs push you around?"

"They're not pushing us around. We were trespassing on their grounds, and now that we know, we'll move someplace neutral. There's nothing spineless about that."

"Yeah, well they're asking for a butt-kicking, walking around like they're some kind of power-coven. Who do they think they are, 'Volturi West?' Do they realize how insignificant they are? They're a bunch of goobers in suits. We wouldn't even work up a sweat."

"We didn't come here to fight, Harvey. Violence is a cycle. It wouldn't just end with those three."

"I'm not living in the slums," he replied defiantly. "Luce and I had a dream-"

"We're not going to live in the slums," I reassured him. "We won't even eat there. We just needed Charles and the Stuart's to know we're not challenging them. There are plenty of nice suburbs to the east where we can live and commute into the city. We'll get you as close to your dream as we can, but it won't include living in Knightsbridge. Sorry."

"It's okay, Harvey," Lucy said, teaming with me to try and calm him down. "We'll still work and shop in the city. It's a lot better than picking a fight with everybody in town."

"You two are unbelievable," he sighed, conceding the decision. "So much for the high-life."

We hurriedly packed our possessions once again, and settled in Brentwood, a bedroom community a few miles to the east of the metroplex. Instead of a loft apartment, we ended up in a two-story, five bedroom estate on twelve wooded acres. It was the quintessential English manor, complete with a secure wrought iron gate around the perimeter and plenty of room to build a matching carriage house for all our automobiles.

We did our best to keep a low profile for the first six months in Brentwood, staying out of the city at night and avoiding the Knightsbridge area whenever possible. Whatever we did (or didn't do) must have worked – we didn't hear from Charles and the Stuart's again, other than the occasional graffiti or vandalism to our cars and house. It wasn't completely out of the ordinary to come home and find "Brown-eyed freaks" written in gasoline-burned patches in our lawn, or "Cold blood lovers" spray-painted onto our roof. Our welcome in town was a tenuous one at that, but we knew the covens were mostly blowing smoke and trying to intimidate us into leaving. When it came down to it, they were as hesitant to pick a fight with us as we were with them, so we endured the antagonism and put down roots in the area.

Harvey had never been able to pull a band together in Toronto, for whatever reason, but he had no trouble finding new band mates in London. Before we were in town three months, he had a complete band put together, and they began writing and performing their own songs in local clubs and small venues. The new band "Silvertouch," met with quick success, and was much more popular and successful than any of Harvey's previous attempts, most likely attributable to the better musicianship of his band mates. Harvey's talent had never really been on the musical side of things, he was just the one who attracted people to his cause, whether they were band members or fans.

Silvertouch continued to grow in popularity, and by the time they released their self-titled first album in early 1985, they were easily the premier local band in London. People came out in droves to hear them play, and to see their charismatic front-man, Nic Lennox (Harvey's latest stage persona) perform. "Nic Lennox," was something of a local celebrity, especially with the teenage girl population. He was known for always wearing his signature reflective silver aviator glasses, and for always removing his shirt at some point in the concert. At first, I was concerned that all the attention he was garnering would disrupt our fragile peace with the London covens, but they either didn't know about it or didn't care, so Harvey kept on rolling.

When he wasn't touring or practicing with his band, Harvey took a keen interest in Lucy's clothing designs, and together, they founded "Lucy May Clothing" in October of 1985, with the goal of creating fashion-forward clothing that the average consumer could afford. They made a great team – Lucy continually came up with great new products, and Harvey was an expert businessman. Before the end of 1987, they employed over 90 workers in a state-of-the-art factory near Manchester, and _Lucy May_ products were sold in department stores all across southern England and Wales. Harvey wanted to expand the business further into the United Kingdom and France, but Lucy had other interest that demanded her time and attention.

Lucy did a lot of her basic sketching and dreaming at home, but when she really wanted to get work done (and get some space from Harvey's distracting nature), she went to her downtown design studio. The commuting route from Brentwood took her through the slums of the lower east end, and after seeing the plight of the residents there every day, she began to develop a deep compassion for them. Every night for nearly a month, she'd come home from the studio talking about the poor and neglected in the area, and trying to think of some way to help them. Eventually, she decided the best way to help was to put her expertise to use, and with a large donation from the family fund, she opened a free clinic in Canning Town, a small neighborhood near the docks. She spent long hours there day and night, treating diseases, administering vaccines, and giving medical advice to grateful parents. Giving back to the community energized her, just as Harvey's firefighting in Toronto had. Of course, he was too busy for all that now, but I could tell there was still a part of him that wanted to be helping others. I figured it was only a matter of time before he picked it back up.

As for me, I decided to take a break from teaching and explore other interests with my time. I managed the mortuary, attended Harvey's concerts and Lucy's fashion shows, and occasionally lent a helping hand at the clinic. I also took time to study other scientific fields, such as computer design and programming. It was absolutely remarkable, the things people could do with a sequence of 1's and 0's. I was a quick learner, and with my ability to influence the speed and efficiency of processing, computers soon became another strength of mine. Try as I did, though, I couldn't get away from teaching. Every time I passed a university or high school, I thought about it. Every time I took another computer class, it was on my mind. I couldn't escape the pull, so I compromised. Next door to Lucy's clinic, I set up a small studio where I tutored local children, helping them learn to read and write effectively, as well as working with them on basic mathematics, science, and hygiene. On any given afternoon, I would have as many as 15 boys and girls, all eager to learn – and to feel valued and wanted.

By January 1988, life was going just about as well as possible (with the exception, of course, of Coraline's distance from me). _Lucy May Clothing_ had just debuted in Edinburgh, Glasgow and Dublin for the Christmas shopping season, the clinic and tutoring studio were working smoothly, and we hadn't heard from the other London covens in months. As good as things were going elsewhere, all the other success was easily overshadowed by Harvey's band. Silvertouch released their first major record label album, "Robot Intuition," in September 1987, and it was an instant success, peaking at #5 on the UK record sales chart. In that same fall, "Nic Lennox" was voted #3 in 1987's "England's 40 Most Beautiful People." There were posters of his shirtless body in the bedrooms of teenage girls all across the country, which wasn't exactly an ideal scenario for keeping a low profile, but we seemed to be getting away with it, so we let Harvey have his fun. Everything just fell into place for us, as if we were always meant to be in London in the first place. It was into this near-perfect life that the most unexpected of all curveballs was thrown.

January 31st, 1988 was more than just an ordinary Sunday. It was Superbowl Sunday. The championship game of the National Football League began that evening in Los Angeles at 3pm local time, which translated to 11pm in London. Over the previous four years, I had gotten used to it – the Superbowl being late in the evening. Not that lateness really bothered me at all, but it was a little strange watching a live broadcast of a sunny outdoor game in the middle of the night. Harvey and I had been fans of American football since its first televised days, bouncing around with team loyalties until we settled on the Dallas Cowboys. It had been a forgettable year for the Cowboys, as they lost 4 out of their final 6 games and missed the playoffs altogether. To make matters worse, the arch-rival Washington Redskins were having a tremendous season, and were set to challenge the Denver Broncos for the world championship title. I wasn't a big fan of Denver's flashy quarterback, but I hated the Redskins desperately, so I was pulling for the Broncos to win.

I had to watch the game by myself for the first time ever, which took part of the fun out of it. Harvey was playing a concert in Belfast at the time, and Lucy was busy working in the clinic (not that she would have really enjoyed watching in the first place). Lucy had her hands full that night, as she often did on the weekends, so I reluctantly agreed to spend the evening there with her, in case she got too busy. I actually visited the clinic quite frequently, serving as a stand-in for an X-ray machine, EEG machine, MRI machine, and just about any other medically-relevant imaging technology. Lucy was always very appreciative of my diagnostic help, in addition to the peace of mind she had knowing I was nearby to help in case she lost her control in the presence of human blood, which was much more frequent here than at her pediatric clinic in Toronto.

The family's primary television, a custom-built 62" projection unit, was located at our Brentwood home, along with our state-of-the-art sound system. Instead of that sports-watching nirvana, I got to watch the most momentous game of the season on a 13" black and white TV set with a barely-livable speaker that sounded like vibrating cardboard. It wasn't much, but it was better than missing the game altogether.

Once Lucy had things well in hand, I excused myself and slipped into the back room of the clinic, making it just in time for the game to begin. It took a lot of mental coaxing to get the archaic television to pick up the broadcast, which didn't normally air in the United Kingdom, but with a combination of a high-powered external antenna and focused concentration, I was able to get a relatively steady picture. I watched the first quarter of the game in my lonely room, cheering loudly, not so much for the Broncos as _against_ the Redskins.

From the beginning, the game was going very much to my liking. The Bronco quarterback that I didn't care for threw a touchdown pass on the first play from scrimmage, and by the end of the first 15 minutes of play, the Broncos had a 10-0 advantage on the hated Redskins. It was looking like it was going to be a very enjoyable evening, when Lucy burst into the room, interrupting a hilarious beer commercial.

"Grant, I need your help with a patient."

"Can it wait? I'm right in the middle of the game. Half time should be coming in about forty minutes."

"No. I need you to come now. Sorry."

"Okay," I said flatly, trying to disguise my frustration. "What's the problem?"

"I... really think you should see for yourself."

_Great. Hopefully I won't miss the entire second quarter._

I followed her down the uneven, narrow hallway, quickly passing a handful of people laid up in beds with various illnesses. At least, they were _supposed_ to have had illnesses. Lucy often opened her extra hospital beds to locals who had nowhere else to sleep, which, on a cold winter's night like this, was perfectly understandable. Eventually we came to the examination room, which was white, brightly-lit and sterile, almost as if it had been cut out of a high-end hospital room and pasted here in the middle of the slums. On the table was a young teenage girl – probably 15 or 16 years old – and upon first observation, she looked about eight months pregnant. Her short, blond hair was in messy curls, colored by the same dirt and soot that seemed to be covering her sporadically from head to toe. Apart from her abdomen, which was heavy with child, she looked to be malnourished and sickly – possibly as the result of substance abuse, which was all too common for the patients we treated at the clinic. From what I could see, everything seemed normal enough. Obviously, I was missing something.

"So... what seems to be the problem?" I asked after a moment. "Other than the fact that she's in labor."

"Look at her," Lucy said, seeming a little irritated.

"I am looking at her."

"No,_ inside._ There's..." she lowered her voice to be sure the girl couldn't hear. "There's something really weird going on in there."

I closed my eyes and peered into her body, gaining an almost-visible understanding of what was going on inside. I saw her womb, and inside, a full-grown fetus – a girl, who seemed to be quite lively. Something was off with the whole picture, though. The uterus and surrounding tissues seemed immature, with the qualities one would expect to see in the first trimester of pregnancy.

I gave Lucy a puzzled look before turning to the girl.

"What's your name, lass?"

"Amelia," she choked out between pained gasps. I winced along with her as the child in her womb kicked violently, causing her entire body to shake. There was definitely something wrong.

"Alright, Amelia," I continued, "tell me, how far along are you in this pregnancy?"

"I... um... I' ain't sure, really," she replied, her face softening a bit as the baby settled down momentarily. She was actually quite a lovely girl when she wasn't grimacing.

"Do you know... about _when _you became pregnant?"

"I dunno... three or four weeks, I think. That's when I started noticin' things startin' to look all outta sorts."

_Great. Some help she is._

"This child inside you is the size of a nine-month-old fetus. Are you sure it didn't happen longer ago?" Her accent and use of grammar hinted at a lack of education. In addition to that, she smelled strongly of heroine, possibly taken as recently as the previous few hours, which would explain the oddness of her response. What it didn't explain was why her fetus and her body were so mis-aligned.

"I ain't a whore, mister," she said after a moment's pause. "I swear."

"I wasn't trying to imply that, my dear. I just need-"

"He told me it was safe," she blurted, starting to cry, as the baby kicked again. "He told me I wouldn't get pregnant. I told 'im I didn't want no baby. I wasn't gonna ditch it like my mother done me. He said he couldn't have no kids. He promised..."

"Who promised, Amelia?"

"I don't know his name. He didn't tell me. He just came-"

Her sentence was interrupted by another fetal movement, this one even stronger than the last. Her body convulsed in pain, as I took another look inside. The child was so strong that her movements were beginning to damage tissues inside her mother. There was another convulsion, as the baby rolled around, followed by an even stronger kick. This time, something in the mother's abdomen tore, and she began bleeding internally at an alarming rate.

"Amelia? Are you alright?" I asked her. She sudden looked pale and sheepish.

"I feel really... dizzy," she said groggily.

"What's going on?" Lucy asked me, her face intense and creased with concern.

"She's got a massive bleed inside. We need to get that fetus out of there so I can try to fix it."

"A bleed? Oh, no..."

"It's alright, Luce. We can handle it, but we need to move quickly."

"Okay," she sighed, gearing herself up for the blood. "Lord, help me."

"Amelia? We're going to give you a local anesthetic, and then we're going to go in and get that baby out of you. You shouldn't feel a thing." Amelia nodded, fear and uncertainty on her face. Lucy prepared and administered the anesthetic as I explained it, and in a matter of moments, I had the scalpel to her skin.

"Hold your breath," I said to Lucy, as I pushed gently and broke the skin. There was already an unsafe amount of blood in her abdomen from the earlier tear – the smell filled my nostrils and burned my throat like acid. I used my mind to try and inhibit the response in Lucy and myself, but there was only so much I could do. The blood smelled strongly of drugs, but it was still appealing enough to tempt us both intensely. After pausing a moment to regain my focus, I continued cutting, breaching the uterus and coming to the placenta, which is where I encountered a serious problem. It was impenetrable. I broke the scalpel on it without even making a scratch.

"What happened?" Lucy asked sharply. The pressure was getting to her.

"I don't know. I can't get through the placenta."

"Well, try again," she said, handing me another scalpel. It had the same reaction.

"Lucy, this thing is hard as rock. I can't cut through it."

"Then use your fingers," she said after a pause.

"I don't think that's such a good idea," I replied, pointing my eyes toward Amelia."

"I don't think it's going to matter," she said solemnly. She was right. The bleeding in Amelia's abdomen was worsening by the second - the odds of her living through the night were slim to none. We could still save the child, though.

"Amelia, dear, this isn't something you want to see. I need you to focus on Doctor Willoughby's face," I told the dying mother, as Lucy walked around to her side. In the event that she did live through the procedure, I needed to still appear to be human. I felt around the oddly-colored placenta, trying to make sure I was staying away from the child's head, and dug my fingers in. It took pushing with all my might, but I was finally able to open a small hole, and with another strong pull, I widened it enough to extract the baby. As soon as I pulled the baby girl out of her mother's womb, things got even more bizarre. She opened her eyes – fully developed eyes – and looked at me. There was no crying, only a look of confusion. The child's skin was fair, more so than a normal human baby, and she had blond hair like her mother's... and nearly as long. I found myself lost in the infant's gaze, our eyes fixed on each other with the same degree of wonder. Lucy brought me back to reality abruptly.

"Grant! You might want to let Amelia see," she said, her fingers gauging the mother's pulse. "She's almost gone," she whispered to me, too low for Amelia to hear. I took care of the umbilical cord and handed the girl over delicately, looking in Amelia's abdomen for the source of the bleeding, but it was too late. Her heart was failing.

"It's a girl," Amelia mumbled, barely able to hold her new child.

"She's beautiful," Lucy added with a pained smile. "What do you want her name to be?"

Amelia coughed weakly, wheezing as she struggled to draw in another breath. I knew I couldn't save her life, but I could help her have at least a little more time with her daughter. I peered into her heart and other vital organs, working with them to give her just one more moment. She closed her eyes, drawing in one final breath before her life gave out, and spoke one word, barely above a whisper.

"London."


	15. Chapter 14

_14. TAXANOMY_

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence as we listened to Amelia's heart stop, unable to do anything and unsure of what to say.

"So... did she mean 'London' as a name, or was she trying to say something else?" I asked to no one in particular.

"How can you ask that right now?" Lucy replied emotionally. "We just watched a girl die. We couldn't save her, and now we have an orphan on our hands. What are we gonna do?"

"I don't know, Lucy. We'll figure it out."

"Do you even care at all?" She half-yelled. As soon as the sound left her mouth, it was drowned out by a much louder, sweeter sound.

Crying.

The baby, name-yet-to-be-determined, had been so quiet up to that point that I forgot how unusual that was. Lucy's tone must have spooked her, and she let out a frightened wail that had a distinct musicality to it. I could almost make out complementing harmonics in the sound, which only got louder when I stepped over to try and calm the infant. Bad idea. I stepped back quickly and decided to wait it out. There was a distinctly non-human quality to the ringing notes – if I didn't know better, I'd say it was an almost vampire-esque sound. I was so taken by the sound of her crying that I didn't notice another obvious fact until Lucy pointed it out to me. She had teeth. Not little barely-through-the-gum nubs, a full set of shiny white teeth.

"Do you-"

"Yeah," I interrupted, guessing Lucy's question before she asked it. There was no way I could miss a newborn with teeth like that. The crying continued until Lucy took the baby in her arms, rocking and shushing her until she calmed down. There was something so sweet in the way she held the frightened child, a natural motherly instinct, I presumed.

"It's okay, there, London," she said softly to the infant, still rocking her gently. "I didn't mean to scare you. You're safe with me."

"Um... Lucy?"

"Yes," she answered, still fixated on the girl.

"You may want to get the baby cleaned up and out of this room. I'll take care of the mother's body."

"She has a _name_, Grant."

"That's yet to be determined."

"_London_ and I will be in room six," she said as she turned to walk out the door, still rocking and cooing the odd little infant.

She seemed to be almost hypnotized by the child, which she insisted on addressing by name. That bothered me. Every kid knows the rules about stray animals – don't name them, because they become that much harder to give away when your parents find out. Here was a young woman who was unable to have children, presented with a motherless child, who, outside of the two of us, nobody even knew existed. It was easy to see how difficult it might be to convince Lucy to give the child over to family services.

I continued pondering the bizarre situation as I cleaned up the examination room and took care of the mother's body. The mis-alignment of the womb and the fetus, the impenetrable placenta, the hair and eyes and teeth... they all added up to one very strange baby. I knew there must be a scientific explanation for the condition, but I had no idea where to even begin to formulate a theory. This was far out of my area of expertise. Actually, I did have one crazy idea, but it was much too troubling to think on, so I put it aside and allowed my mind to wander onto other things. Like blood.

With the stress of the situation gone, my mind was now much more susceptible to the smell of blood in the room, and on several occasions, it became too much for me to bear, forcing me to step out into the hallway and regain my composure. I came very close to breaking down and drinking the blood myself, but it was too awkward, knowing that I had just been trying to save the girl's life. In a strange way, I almost felt like I knew her, and I couldn't bring myself to harvest her blood that way.

It took me nearly an hour, but I was eventually able to clean up the room and prepare the body for transfer to the mortuary. Having the blood near for so long had stripped my will-power bare – I had to dip into the emergency kit to keep from losing it altogether. We stockpiled a couple gallons of blood at the clinic to be used in emergency situations – not for the patients, but to satiate our thirst in case we became desperate. I drank all but a few pints, flooding the burn in my throat with more blood than I ever consumed at one time. Thankfully, it worked, and by 2am or so, I was in firm control of myself and ready to deal with Lucy and the infant.

Things were exactly as I had feared when I slipped into the dimly-lit patient room where Lucy and the newborn were waiting. The fluorescent ceiling light was off, replaced by a handful of peacefully flickering candles in the corner. There was a warm, sweet smell to the room, probably from one or more of the candles, and it was warmer than the rest of the building, thanks to an electric space heater near the door. Lucy was still holding the child, swaying smoothly back and forth as she hummed softly. The baby was wide awake, studying Lucy's face intently. They were bonding. It needed to stop.

"Hey Lucy," I said softly, not wanting to disturb the restful mood, "why don't you put the baby down, and let's talk about this."

"That's okay," she whispered. "I'll just keep holding her."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

I wasn't normally a blunt or straightforward person, but I needed to get my point across.

"I'm afraid you're going to become too attached to this child. It's only going to make it harder for you when we hand her over to protective services."

She looked offended.

"I am not getting too attached," she said softly, but with an edge to her tone. "I'm just trying to show her a little love and tenderness, since she's not going to get it from anywhere else. And who said anything about turning her over to the state?"

"Well, we certainly can't keep her, and we have no idea who the father is."

"Yeah, but we can't just dump her at the orphanage. Look at her... she's special. They wouldn't understand."

I looked at the child in her arms, trying to keep an objective angle. It wasn't easy. She was a beautiful baby, more so than any newborn I had ever seen. I needed to see her as a patient, though, and nothing more.

"She is quite lovely," I conceded. "I don't know what to make of those eyes, though. Or the teeth, for that matter..."

"I know," she replied, visibly awestruck with the tiny human. "You should smell her."

I had been so distracted with the blood in the room earlier that I hadn't noticed the baby's smell at all. Lucy gestured for me to come over, so I walked to her side and drew a long breath next to the human. The sweet smell increased noticeably.

"Wait – are those scented candles?" I whispered, nodding in the direction of the room's new light source.

"Nope. It's all her," she replied with a knowing smile.

I smelled again. The baby's body had a very confusing aroma to it. On the one hand, she smelled like a normal blood-filled human. Warm, mildly appetizing. Stronger than that, though, was a surprisingly pleasant fragrance that smelled something like a really good cup of wassail – apples, cinnamon, and cloves, with a hint of citrus thrown in. It was utterly unlike any human being I had every smelled. Actually, it was much more similar to the fragrance one might expect from a vampire, which caused me to worry even more.

"Has the baby smelled like this the whole time? You didn't put on any lotions, or anything?"

"Nope. She just smells really good."

"Oh, dear."

"I think she might be running a fever, though. Can you grab a thermometer and check?"

"Sure."

I returned momentarily with a thermometer, and we found that Lucy was right. The child's body temperature was just a touch over 101 degrees – definitely above the expected levels for a normal, healthy human baby. The infant showed no other signs of discomfort or distress, though, which made things even more awkward. There were no cries, no fussing, just constant, wide-eyed examination of everything in the room. It was quite odd.

After taking a while longer to watch and muse at the child, we decided to continue our observations at home. I wanted to transport the baby back myself, but Lucy didn't trust me with it – her. She was afraid I'd take the child to the orphanage behind her back. What she didn't realize was that I was already hooked – I had to study this strange creature and try to figure out what in the world was going on with her. Lucy was insistent, though, so as much as it went against my goal of an easy release, I let her take the newborn home. I stayed back at the clinic for a few hours, treating a handful of patients and waiting for dawn so I could evict the overnight guests. Once there was a reasonable amount of warmth cutting through the seemingly-perpetual cloud cover outside, I asked the guests to leave, closed up shop, and headed home. I made a stop on my way back, visiting a supermarket for necessities like baby formula, diapers, and newborn clothing.

The cashier, a plump, middle-aged woman, smiled warmly as I placed the items on the register counter.

"Are you a first-time dad?" she asked, with a twinkle in her eye.

"Um... no. This is for my, uh... niece," I lied awkwardly. _Ugh! Don't think like that,_ I chided myself._ Remember objectivity._

"Oh, how sweet," the cashier responded as she began bagging my items. "What's her name?"

"London," I replied without thinking. _Don't name it, remember? C'mon, keep your wits about you._

"Well, you don't hear that one every day, do ya? Oh, well, to each his own."

She handed me the bag and I walked quickly out the door before she could ask me any more disarming questions. I was a scientist, the child was a subject. That's all there was to it.

I returned to the house, afraid I might find Lucy and the baby involved in another bonding experience, but to my relief, the child was fast asleep. Good, I thought to myself as I quietly slipped past the couch-turned-crib in the living room. _Vampires don't sleep. At least, _adult_ vampires don't..._

I called Lucy away from her new fixation long enough to show her the items I had purchased, only to learn that I had two packages of bottles and no nipples. In addition to the missing nipples, Lucy had a shopping list for me that spanned both sides of a sheet of paper. I quickly glanced over the exhaustive list, and attempted to challenge a few of the items.

"A wind-up swing?" I asked with creased eyebrows.

"We might need one," she answered defensively.

"For what? We're only keeping her here for a day or two until we figure out what to do with her."

"See – you called her 'her.' You care, too."

"That's not the point, Lucy. We're not keeping this child any longer than we have to."

"You think I don't know that?" She snapped back, more cutting than I was accustomed to. "This is the closest I'm ever going to come to being a mother, okay? I just want to enjoy it while it lasts."

"And whose fault is that?"

"That's low, Grant."

"You need to keep your head in this, Lucy. You cannot get attached to this baby. She's not yours."

"Just go buy the stuff, okay? Please."

I left the house again, stopping first by the mortuary to pick up a panel-van big enough to fit a full nursery-worth of furniture in. While I was there, I went in to check on the body of the child's mother. The mortician hadn't begun working on her yet, so I took a vile of her blood and a tissue sample from her uterine wall. That way, I could cross-reference them with samples from the child, and hopefully gain some insight into what sort of disease or mutation would cause such an unnatural pregnancy.

It took me all morning to complete the list, and by the time I got back to the house, it was early afternoon. The baby was still asleep, so I waited to bring in the furniture, and slipped in the back door quietly. Lucy was on the phone with someone – most likely Harvey, so I crept back into the living room and spent some time studying our little house guest in detail. I did a double-take as soon as I saw her. It may have just been my imagination, but I could have sworn that she was actually a little longer than when I had last seen her at the clinic, just nine hours earlier. I jotted that peculiarity down in a notepad, along with all the other unusual observations I had made, and set down to study her at the cellular level. That's when things got really interesting.

While our test-subject baby may have looked perfectly human on the outside, her cellular structure was decidedly not human. The structures of the cells themselves were thicker, smoother, more resilient-looking. I would have said they looked more like vampire anatomy, but they were _alive _– moving and growing at a rapid pace. The more information I collected, the more confused I became. She was a mystery.

Once the child was awake, I tried taking a blood sample, but every needle I used crumpled against her skin, just as the scalpel had done on the placenta. Impenetrable skin. Yet another clue. I convinced Lucy to allow me to watch the baby while she set up a temporary nursery in one of our spare bedrooms. I pulled out the baby formula, and after about a half-hour of painstakingly detailed mixing (never send a chemist to prepare baby formula), I presented it to the baby, who seemed to have no interest in it whatsoever. I struggled with the stubborn newborn for fifteen minutes, the pair of us growing equally frustrated along the way, and never got her to ingest more than a few drops. It was at that point that I decided to try something a little more radical.

I went to the refrigerator, pulled out a container of blood, and after heating a few ounces, gave it to the baby. Instant success. I realized, as I watched her chug the blood like a freshman at a frat party, that I had lost my objectivity. I was hopeful that the blood-experiment would fail. That would have tipped the evidence toward the _human _side, the safe side. The baby didn't want human food, though. She wanted blood. She finished off the first bottle, and nearly emptied another before calming down and returning to her usual wide-eyed exploration. I took the opportunity to sit down in my thinking chair and sort through the evidence, trying to come up with a proper classification for her. After a long, scientifically objective process, I came up with three options.

_Option 1_: She was a human child with some extraordinarily rare mutations that caused her to grow rapidly and consume blood like a vampire. She would grow up as a ward of the state, misunderstood and ostracized by her peers, and live out her brief life as an outcast.

_Option 2_: She was somehow presented with venom as a fetus, and was slowly finishing the transition into a full-blown vampire, at which point she would become an "immortal child." The Volturi would find out about her sooner or later, and would end not only her life, but most likely mine, Lucy's and Harvey's, as well. Not to mention the fact that her insatiable appetite for blood, combined with her child-like reasoning skills would result in a catastrophic loss of human life.

_Option 3_: She was a partially-human child who had been legitimately fathered by a male vampire. I had no idea what consequences would go along with this option, but I found myself hoping wildly that it was the correct one. It was the only option that didn't necessarily end badly for the poor girl.

Harvey canceled the next two weeks of tour dates in order to stay home and help us sort out what to do with the baby, but a winter storm kept his plane from returning to England, so we were on our own for at least another day. Neither Lucy nor I left the house at all the second day, choosing to play it safe and monitor the baby's growth more closely.

I was able to make several more interesting observations from my second day with her. First, she was growing rapidly. By the time she was 48 hours old, she had the look, size and mannerisms of a month-old human baby. This troubled me somewhat, as it tipped the scales toward vampirism. On the other hand, her digestion system was much more similar to a human's than to a vampire's. When vampires ingest blood, it first goes into the stomach, and then is quickly passed through the stomach lining and into the intravenous system, where it's circulated, not by a beating heart, but by a unique movement of the veins and arteries themselves, much like food moving through intestines. Vampires don't really _digest_ anything. The blood gets burned as fuel in the various areas of the body. When our non-human baby drank blood, it was broken down into regular, nutritive elements in the stomach acid, and those elements went to fuel the body. The process was nearly identical to what one would see in a normal human baby drinking milk or formula.

The most profound thing I observed about the strange little non-human was her curiously endearing nature. I had never been good with children, especially babies, but there was something inside her tiny, innocent body that kept me near her. Lucy and I took turns; one would watch her, while the other continued to set up things in the nursery and work on other daily, household tasks. This was actually a great motivation to get things done faster so we could spend more time with the baby. At first, the attraction was purely scientific. From a biologist's perspective, I was quite possibly studying the first and only representative of a species. It was my duty as a scientist to observe the subject as closely and comprehensively as possible. In the furthest, unacknowledged recesses of my mind, though, there was more to it than just science, a stronger pull, which brought itself to the surface quite abruptly on Tuesday evening.

I was watching the baby while Lucy called to give some instructions to her sales manager (since she wouldn't be coming to check up on the factory for a few days). The newborn had become fussy, most likely because it was nearing time for her to sleep again, so, after trying several other diversions, I began quoting poetry to her in a soft, smooth voice. She quickly calmed down, laying peacefully in her pillow-top, white lace trimmed bassinet as she watched my mouth intently.

I went through several of my favorites, amused by her curiosity, before pausing a moment to look at the clock. It was nearing 9pm, time for little ones to be getting to sleep. My mind started to wander off, pondering the uniqueness of a vampire-like creature that slept nine hours at a time. Then, out of nowhere, she reached out, grasping my index finger with all five of hers, and said "daa." I froze for a moment, perplexed. The look on her face was full of meaning, as if she had been enjoying my poems and she wanted me to recite some more, which was, of course, ridiculous. She was only two days old. Her eyebrows lowered in frustration at my inaction, though, and I had nothing better to do, so I resumed my job as the pacifier/entertainer. As soon as I uttered the first word, her mouth spread into the most beautiful, angelic smile imaginable. _She smiled at me. _

I continued with the poems for another half an hour, and gradually, the repetitive cadence of the words and the lateness of the evening ushered her into a deep sleep. I sat there and looked at her for a while, trying to reconcile my heart and mind. _Objective, objective! _My mind demanded. _Yes, but look at that face, my heart countered. How can you not adore such an innocent little creature? _The tug was hitting me faster and harder than I was prepared to handle. I needed to get out and clear my head a bit. That's when the idea struck me – just because I had never seen this sort of human/vampire/whatever before, it didn't mean that she was the only one in existence. If it could happen here, it could theoretically happen anywhere else, and if it happened anywhere else, there was one person who would most likely know about it.

Hermes.

I traded places with Lucy, who came in around 9:45, and picked up the phone. I had a very tricky call to make. Coraline had told me all about how Hermes' assistant, Theodore, had sold me out to Philippe, and even helped to track me. From what she could see, he was still working with Philippe periodically, which meant that if I wanted to talk to Hermes, I had to find a way to get to him alone. I didn't know if Hermes still used the same phone number, and beyond that, whether Theodore would be answering calls, but I needed to start somewhere, so with fingers crossed, I picked up the phone and dialed the number. The receptionist on the other line answered the phone in French.

"Beauchamp-Pfinster International, how may I direct your call?"

_Hmm... that doesn't sound right. But then, maybe it's a cover to weed out nosy humans..._

"Uh, yes," I replied in French, "I was actually calling to inquire about an appointment with Hermes – unless I have the wrong number."

The woman's tone changed slightly, from dull and disinterested to bright and chipper.

"I would be happy to arrange that for you. What is the nature of your inquiry?"

"I need to learn to speak, uh... Russian. And Mandarin Chinese, and I was hoping that Hermes and his partner could do that hand-to-book transfer thing for me."

"Are you speaking of an osmosis transference?"

"Um, yes. I believe that's the one. How soon can I get on the schedule?"

I heard typing on a keyboard, as the woman checked Hermes' calendar on a computer.

"It looks like the earliest I can fit you in is this Saturday. How does four p.m. sound?"

"Uh... well, I really need something sooner. Are you sure there's no time earlier, like, say, Thursday? I'd be willing to wait on standby for any cancellations..."

"I'm sorry, sir, but Hermes won't be available for osmosis transference until Saturday."

"Oh, is he on vacation?"

"No. His partner, Theodore, will be out of the office until Friday. There's no way to schedule things any earlier than that."

"Okay," I said, trying to mask the excitement in my voice with disappointment. "Well, I'll try it the old-fashioned way. Thank you for your help."

"You're very welcome, sir. I hope we can better fit your schedule needs next time. Have a pleasant evening."

I hung up the phone with a relieved, slightly proud smile on my face. Thanks to my investigative work, I now had a workable window of time in which to see Hermes. All I had to do was get there in time.

I left Lucy in charge of the baby, and caught the next flight to Morocco. The travel was dull but efficient, and since Hermes was still operating out of the same building in Casablanca, I was able to navigate there will ease. Technically, I didn't have an appointment, but thanks to the impressionable young lady at the receptionists desk, I was able to squeeze in between appointments for a few moments of Hermes' time. The wise old man was waiting for me as I stepped out into the familiar, open floorspace of his office, seated in a high-backed maroon leather chair.

"Well, this is quite a nice surprise," he said with a warm smile, rising to greet me with a hug. "I heard you kicked the bucket years ago. Where've you been?"

"Hiding."

"Yeah, well, I guess you would be," he said with a chuckle. "That was some deep trouble you were in. I'm guessing that's why you're visiting while Theodore's away, huh?"

"I can't exactly trust him anymore..."

"If it makes any difference, I don't like him either. Kinda need him for business, though."

"Yes, well, speaking of business, I have a favor to ask of you."

"What sort of favor?" He asked, somewhat warily.

"More like a question than a favor, actually."

"Why don't you have a seat, and I'll try and answer it for you," he said, gesturing to an ornate cream velvet upholstered chair that looked like it belonged in Buckingham Palace.

"What's on your mind?" He asked casually once we were seated.

"Okay, well... how do I begin? Um... this is going to sound strange..."

"C'mon, boy. Spit it out. I'm sure it's nothing I haven't heard before."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that."

"Try me," he said with a smile.

"Do you think..." I lowered my voice, in case there were other vampires in the building. "Do you think it's theoretically possible for a male vampire to impregnate a female human?"

"Well, that is an original one," he replied, with a pleasantly surprised look.

"So... do you think it could happen?"

"Sure, it's possible."

"Really?"

"The only thing that's impossible is coming up with an idea that can't be done. It's _possible_. Now, is it _probable_?I'm inclined to say no. But, of course, you're here asking me about it, which means you're either banging human girls, in which case, shame on you, or you already know it's possible, because you've seen it happen."

"I'm certainly not sleeping with any humans," I replied, a little shocked he would imply it.

"Well then, tell me what you know, 'cause I'm guessing it's more than what I know about the subject."

"Okay, let's see... My sister-in-law runs a free clinic in London, and three nights ago, a teenage girl came in, looking nine months pregnant."

"Okay..."

"Well, I examined the patient, and all the anatomy was mixed up. The fetus was full-grown, but the womb was vastly underdeveloped. Anyhow, to make a long story short, we had to deliver the baby via Caesarean section, and the mother died in the process."

"I'm waiting for the vampire part."

"When we pulled out the child, she had shoulder-length hair, wide open eyes that seemed to be able to focus on things, and a full set of teeth."

"Hmm. That _is_ weird."

"In addition to that, the child has skin as strong as mine, she smells like cinnamon and spices, and she's grown to the size of a month-old baby in two days. Oh, and she drinks blood."

"Drinks blood, eh? Well, that sort of narrows it down. Listen, I'm going to pretend that you didn't just tell me that, because _officially_, I'd be expected to turn you in to the Volturi. They're pretty up-tight about immortal children. Hypothetically speaking, though, if such a child were to exist, would she have any other characteristics to make you think she was part-human? _Hypothetically_, of course." He winked.

"Well, hypothetically, she would have a beating heart. And she would sleep for eight or nine hours at a time. And she would digest blood the same way a human would digest any other food. _If_ such a creature existed."

"And would you happen to know who the father might be? If such a situation were to happen in real life..."

"There are five male vampires who hunt in London – one has a mate, but it could easily have been any of the other four. Or, it could also be a traveler who just happened to be passing through."

"Hmm. Well, that's interesting. Tell me, Grant, what do you get when you cross-breed a horse with a donkey?"

"Um... a mule."

"Right. A mule has all the desirable burden-bearing and stability characteristics of a donkey, but with a size closer to that of a horse."

"Okay, so..."

"So, if your hypothetical newborn has characteristics of a human and a vampire, and you know the mother was a human..."

"You really think that's possible?"

He stroked his beard for a moment before responding.

"I've seen plenty of literature on vampire sexuality, and there's nothing in there to make me think it wouldn't be possible. Female vampires can't be impregnated, but that doesn't mean the males are sterile. So, yes, I think it would be possible. Hypothetically."

"What would you do – if you were in my... _theoretical _position?"

"Well, you already know what you should do. Destroy the child and any evidence linking you to it. I may not like the Volturi, but I have to follow their laws, just like the rest of the vampire world. Everyone knows how dangerous an immortal child is. Even knowing about it can get you killed." He raised one eyebrow as he spoke his last line, making sure I knew he was talking about himself.

"However," he continued, "you already knew that. If you were going to do the responsible thing, you wouldn't be here talking to me, you'd have already done it. So, now, you're in a real pickle."

"I suppose I am."

He tightened his lips, squinting his eyes as if he were thinking about something, and then continued talking.

"Tell me, Grant, have you ever seen a dragon?"

"What – like, in a children's book?"

"No, like a real, live, scaly dragon."

"Of course not. They're fictional beings."

"No, I mean the real ones."

"There aren't real ones."

"Yes there... well, there _were_. I once owned one."

"You – owned a dragon?" I asked skeptically.

"Oh, yeah. It was a beautiful creature. Intelligent, too. I used to ride her, way back before men learned how to fly planes."

"You _are_ kidding, right?"

He chuckled. "You know, for a 'fictional character,' you really don't have much faith, do you?"

"I suppose not."

"Well, that's not really the point. The point is, you've never seen a dragon, because they went extinct a long time ago. And do you know why?"

"Enlighten me."

"They were hunted to extinction by men. Other than werewolves, dragons are the only species I've ever seen that could actually pose a legitimate threat to a vampire. Their teeth were so strong, they could tear your arm right off."

"And then breathe fire on you, right?"

"No, the storytellers made that one up. They were dangerous, though. At least to vampires. You wanna know the funny thing about it? Dragons didn't hunt humans. They ate cattle, and deer, and other herbivores. And they attacked vampires. I've only ever heard of two actual times a dragon killed a man, and both times were in self-defense."

"I'm sorry, you're point is?"

"Men killed the dragons because they didn't understand them. And it's human nature to fear what you don't understand, and to destroy what you fear. And vampires are really just shiny humans. My point is, even if this half-breed child is able to grow and develop enough restraint to behave responsibly, the vampire community may still want to destroy it out of fear."

"So, then, what do you suggest I do with... um, her?"

"You're obviously good at disappearing. If you can't bring yourself to destroy the child, which seems to be the case, then the only other option you have is to disappear. Take her and raise her in the shadows. Avoid any other vampires, even your friends. Let me tell you, when the Volturi cracked down on the immortal children, I saw friends who had known each other for four hundred years turn on each other. Trust no one. Not even me. I don't want to know where you go or what you do. Just do it soon. Situations like this always seem to have a way of bubbling to the surface quickly, especially in a place crawling with vampires like London. That's what you should do. Hypothetically, of course."

"Of course. Well, I suppose I'll leave you to your work," I said, rising to my feet as my mind started processing his suggestion. "Thanks for the advice."

"Any time. Oh, and Grant?" He said as I started to walk away.

"Yes?"

"If you decide to keep her, and she does grow up, I'd very much like to meet her some time. _Hypothetically_." He smiled warmly. I knew my secret would be safe with him. Lucy, though, she was another story. I needed to get back home as soon as possible and make sure she didn't tell anyone about our predicament.


	16. Chapter 15

_15. OPTIONS_

Two days. I was gone all of two days, and in that short span of time, the downstairs guest room had been transformed into a nursery befitting an empress. My jaw literally dropped as I stepped into the large, high-ceilinged room. There were ribbons and lace on virtually every item in sight, all of it drowning in an ocean of pink. It was overdone to the point of absurdity. I came in to find Lucy holding the sleeping baby in her arms, gently rocking back and forth in a wooden rocking chair. I half-expected to see her with the baby in her arms – it seemed to be a nearly-nonstop occurrence. What I didn't expect was to see my brother sitting next to her in a turned-around chair, leaning, arms-folded on the chair back, fixated on the sleeping child like his eyes were functioning for the very first time.

_What in the world has gotten into these two?_

"Hey guys," I said softly, as I walked over to join them. "How long has she been out?"

"About four hours," Lucy responded, speaking even softer than I had.

"Have you... been holding her the entire time?"

She smiled and nodded.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Harvey added, awestruck. "I could just sit and look at her all day."

"Alright, who are you, and what have you done with my brother?"

Harvey shrugged his shoulders. "I can't help it. Just look at her."

I did, and I had to agree with them – she was absolutely angelic. We needed to have a family discussion, though.

"I see you've been decorating the room," I said, running my fingers along the lace trim of the bassinet. "It's a lot of work for a_ temporary _nursery, don't you think?"

"Well, I don't know that it has to be temporary," Lucy said in an almost defensive tone. Harvey nodded slightly to indicate his agreement. It looked like they had held the conversation without me.

"We need to talk – the three of us," I said, after a slight sigh. "Do you think you could set her in the bassinet so we can stop whispering?"

"She's sleeping so well, though," Lucy contested.

"I'm sure she'll be fine," I replied. "It's important."

She sighed demonstratively, and laid the baby down in the bassinet, moving with perfectly smooth motions to ensure she stayed asleep. We shut the door on our way out, and convened in the living room.

"I don't mean to step on your toes, Lucy," I began, "but we really need to think about what we're doing here."

"Okay. I'm listening."

"I talked to Hermes about the situation, and he's in agreement with me that this child was most likely fathered by a vampire."

"Really? Is that possible?" Harvey asked, surprised.

"I believe so. All the evidence points to it."

"So, what does that mean for us?" Lucy asked, still seeming a little irritated.

"It means that we have to be very careful. _Very_ careful. That baby is part vampire, and because of that, the Volturi will almost certainly consider her to be an 'immortal child.'"

"So? What's the harm in that?" Lucy questioned sharply.

Harvey and I had never told her about the incident in New York with the boy that was bitten. We figured there was no sense in needlessly saddening her. I thought Harvey would have mentioned it to her when he returned, but she was apparently still uninformed about the rules.

"The Volturi don't allow vampires to convert children. They're too immature to behave responsibly with their gifts."

Harvey sighed, and jumped in. "They have a zero-tolerance policy. Death to the child, the maker, and anyone involved in covering it up."

"But, we didn't make her this way," Lucy argued. "She was born like this. And besides, she's growing. She'll grow into her maturity in no time."

"_We_ know that," I countered, "but they don't. Having her here is a danger to us all."

"Well, what else are we supposed to do?" she asked, growing more emotional. "She doesn't have anyone else."

"I've been thinking it over all the way back from Morocco, and from what I can see, we have three options."

I was only presenting the other options so they felt like they had input. I already knew what we had to do – it was the only realistic course we could take. I knew they wouldn't like it, but it was in the best interest of the family.

"Okay, what are they?" Lucy asked impatiently.

"Option one – we give the child away. We take her to someplace far away from here, far away from cities and connectivity and suspicious eyes, and hand her over to an orphanage. She looks like a human to the untrained eye – she would at least have a chance at a normal life. Of course, this would pose a great risk to the family. If anyone found out who she really is, and was able to trace it back to us, we would all be in serious trouble."

"Not a chance," Lucy replied, crossing her arms, as Harvey nodded in assent. "Next?"

"Option two... we take the New York City approach."

"Grant – no. We can't do that," Harvey said firmly.

"What's the 'New York approach?'" Lucy asked, almost as an accusation.

"It's not an option," Harvey replied, staring me down and ignoring her question.

"I have to lay it all out there, Harvey."

"I'll lay _you _out."

"Boys! What is the 'New York approach?'" Lucy asked sharply.

Harvey looked pained. He didn't want to be the one to tell her. I didn't either, but somebody had to do it.

"We destroy the child ourselves."

Lucy's eyes widened and her nostrils flared as she took in the sentence. And then, in a flash, she was in a defensive crouch, her back to the nursery door.

"God help me, Grant," she said intensely. "You'll have to kill me first."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa... _easy_..." I said, walking slowly in her direction with arms extended in a non-confrontational gesture. "I don't want it, either, okay? I'm just presenting all the available courses of action."

"I can't believe you even said that," she said, looking at me as if I'd just crushed a puppy. "There'd better be a good 'option three.'"

She relaxed slightly, and rejoined us in the living room.

"Alright. Here's option three," I said. "We keep the child, go into hiding, and raise her as our own, at least until she's old enough to care for herself. It would involve tremendous risk to her and to us, but-"

"Option three," Harvey interrupted.

"Option three," Lucy agreed. "Option three, or option we-kick-you-out-of-the-family-and-do-it-anyway."

I sighed in relief. My heart was desperately set on option three. They needed to know the rest of the deal, though, before they made their final decision.

"Just so you understand," I added, "we would have to leave town quickly and quietly, and we could never return. We'd have to go someplace far away from other vampires – especially ones as connected as those here in London."

"Do we really have to go?" Harvey asked. "We can keep her a secret, if that's what we have to do."

"The father is most likely still in town, and we're not sure that he doesn't know about the pregnancy. The other covens don't trust us; they'll be keeping a very close eye on everything we do. On top of that, would it really be fair to keep her locked up in the cellar for her entire life? She deserves the opportunity to have friends, and get an education."

"How soon would we have to leave?" Lucy asked, her angry demeanor softening by the second.

"A week would be more risk than I'm comfortable with. The sooner, the better. It's not going to be easy. You'll have to give up your business, or at least, manage it from a distance, and with tremendous caution. Harvey, you'd have to give up the band. We can't have your celebrity status drawing attention to us. In addition to that, the whole family would have to drop off the radar. If our friends learned about the child, they'd be required to turn us in, or else risk their lives to lie for us, and if they ever ran across Aro, he'd read their minds and find out, whether they want him to or not. We could never put those we care about at risk. Any of them. It would require a lot of sacrifice from all three of us. I just want you to understand what you'd be signing up for."

"I'll tell the band tomorrow," Harvey said resolutely.

"Give me a day to pack, and I can go anywhere," Lucy added.

"Even if it means never returning here? Ever?"

"It's just a city," Lucy answered.

"Well, then, it's decided," I said, further relieved. "I'll start making preparations tonight."

"Good," Lucy said. "But, if I'm going to go along with this, I have one requirement of you."

"Okay, what?"

"Stop calling her 'the child.' She has a name."

"Very well," I conceded with a gradual smile. "London Willoughby. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"Very nice," she replied, grabbing hold of Harvey's arm. "Very fitting."

We all worked hard, making preparations for yet another move, and taking turns watching London. It took us three days to get everything together, and we were out of town, headed to Oslo, Norway. Lucy turned control of her company over to her sales manager, retaining ownership, but with minimal input. Harvey staged the dramatic death of "Nic Lennox," crashing a private plane into the Irish Sea. Thousands of heartbroken fans attended his closed-casket funeral, and the band officially dissolved.

I considered calling the Cullens to at least let them know that I'd be disappearing for a while, but I didn't know what reason to give them, and I knew Alice would probably see where we were going, anyway. We decided to break contact with every other vampire in the world, with the exception of Coraline. I couldn't bear any more distance from her than I already had. I didn't tell her about London, though, for her own safety. In the event something terrible happened, at least she would still have deniability.

Life in Norway was quite a bit different from the fast-paced existence we enjoyed in London. Not that Oslo was a small city, but we didn't exactly live in Oslo. We built a small, unassuming cabin about 25 miles north of the edge of the city, tucked away amongst the wooded hills and lakes in the region. There wasn't even a paved road to the house when we built it, so we felt sufficiently secure about the location. I set up a mortuary and secured a high-school teaching job in the city. Harvey got an office downtown and managed _Lucy May Clothing_, along with Lucy, via telephone. Perhaps the best part of the city was the absence of any other permanent vampire covens. There was nobody but us for hundreds of miles in every direction, which was just what we needed. All in all, the location worked out much better than we had hoped – we had our privacy, and we had plenty of things to do to keep us busy. Of course, the only thing any of us really wanted to do was watch London grow up.

The official story was that London was Harvey and Lucy's daughter, and that I was the live-in uncle. In reality, though, London had 3 parents, and they were all completely caught up in her little world. She was 7 days old when we arrived at our temporary home in Oslo (while our cabin was being built), and already, she was accomplishing milestones most parents had to wait months, or even years for. All three parents were in the room for her first official word, which came before we had even begun unpacking. Harvey and Lucy were hoping for the more stereotypical choices, like "momma" or "dada," but London's first word was "more," as in, "more blood." A little creepy, but to a group of vampires, it was as sweet as can be.

London was an exceptionally bright girl – once her mouth was caught up with her mind, she began chattering like a grade-schooler, making complete, grammatically-correct sentences within days of her first word. Of course, the majority of her sentences were in _Norwegian_, which was an obvious side-effect of my language-instruction in the home. I had learned to speak Norwegian quite fluently during my time with Hawkins in the 1950's, along with a host of other languages. Harvey and Lucy? They knew absolutely nothing until we arrived there. I spent a great deal of time over the first few weeks teaching them basic conversational Norwegian, and London soaked it all in like a sponge. In fact, by the time we moved into the cabin about a month later, she actually spoke the language better than either of her official parents.

We took learning the local language slowly, because at first, we were hesitant to take London out in public at all. She did have an appetite for blood, and she'd never been in the presence of a human, so we were unsure of how she'd act. We eventually tested things out, taking her to a few sparsely-populated locations near town, and she was surprisingly well-behaved. All that nonsense about her being a blood-crazed monster was just that – nonsense. Ever since she started speaking (and we realized how much she was comprehending), we instilled in her a deep reverence for all forms of life, especially human. I had hoped to downplay the difference between humans and vampires, especially at first, but the girl was infinitely curious, so Harvey, Lucy and I came up with the best explanations that we could. We told London that we were humans, too, but we were special. We told her the truth about where blood comes from, and that once people use up all their years, they donate their blood to special people like us, so we can stay healthy and strong.

We never used the "V" word, instead referring to ourselves as "Forever Ones." London knew that there were other Forever Ones elsewhere in the world, but we told her that we all had different places we were meant to live, so that we could help the short-term humans. She was a very observant girl, and she noticed quite a few differences between herself and the three of us, such as the fact that we didn't breathe, our hearts didn't beat, and we didn't produce waste (oh, yes. She produced waste. Lots and lots of it. The day she became "potty-trained" was like a national holiday for the three of us). We told her that it was because she was young, and that when she grew up, she would be just like us. I knew such stories would only hold their validity for so long, but despite her intelligence in some areas, she was still a young child, and we didn't want to burden her mind with too many complicated matters.

Parenting a child as unique as London took a lot of work – we each had our own roles in her upbringing. Case-in-point: Harvey originally had the role of bedtime-story-reader, but after a few nights coaxing London through a series of nightmares, we decided to transfer the duty to Lucy (since the majority of Harvey's memory repository consisted of World War II battles, vampire assassinations, and British Special Ops jobs). The new assignment was a perfect fit – Lucy was the nurturer of the family. She taught London manners, etiquette, social skills (in closely-supervised outings with humans), and things of that nature. She also took London to church with her, and was primarily responsible for her moral instruction. As much as I wasn't a fan of church, _per se_, it was a good place for her to learn basic values, most of which further solidified things we were teaching her at home.

Officially, Harvey was in charge of a handful of responsibilities, like seeing to it that London was well-fed and rested, and teaching her about the vampire side of things. Unofficially, Harvey's main contribution was fun. This included everything from guitar jam-sessions in her room (complete with an 800-watt amplifier that literally shook the walls), to outdoor fun and games in the forest, to the nightly tickle war (which never failed to get her all worked up right before bed time). We gave him a hard time about it, but in all fairness, what he gave her was important. After all, she was still a child, and children need lots of fun. In addition to that, playing with her father provided London with plenty of exercise, which was good, since she didn't get out much.

As the "uncle" in the family, my duties were mostly centered around London's education. She was a remarkably bright girl – by the time she was a year and a half old, she was working on advanced algebraic equations, writing 20-page book reviews, and breezing through college-level chemistry like a science major. She spoke English, Norwegian, German, French and Spanish fluently, and had at least a usable knowledge of a handful of other languages. Teaching a student as intelligent and curious as London was largely fulfilling for me, but I sometimes came to resent my auxiliary role as the instructor. I loved her just as much as Harvey and Lucy, and was just as responsible for her well-being and happiness as they were. I was as much her parent as either of them were, but at the end of the day, Harvey was her father, Lucy was her mother, and I was just "uncle G." At least, that was the story for the outside world. London didn't always make the same distinctions.

One of my favorite memories of her early childhood came in August of 1989. London was about the physical size of a 4-year-old at the time, and I was watching her for the weekend while Harvey and Lucy traveled to Milan to make an official appearance at the _Lucy May _fall fashion show (and to get a break from parenting for a while). Since it was the weekend, we didn't do any schoolwork, other than practicing a little Italian. Instead, it was all fun time. It was a nice, cloudy day outside, so we spent the morning and early afternoon enjoying the weather. We took a 30-mile bicycling trip, went for a swim in our favorite lake, and played hopscotch on the driveway. The late afternoon was spent playing Tecmo Bowl on her video game system (she beat me mercilessly), playing dress-up with Lucy's spring fashion line, and having my hair braided.

We settled down for the night with a cup of tea, which was our weekend tradition. It was the only drink other than blood that she liked, and as we came to learn, caffeine actually had a calming effect on her, rather than its usual adrenaline-encouraging influence on humans. After tea, we sat on the couch, and I read her a bedtime story. I wasn't much of a cuddler, but London was. She curled up into my lap, resting her head against my arm as I read her a chapter from _The Horse and His Boy_. More often than not, she would fall asleep in my arms, and I would carry her upstairs to her room. On this particular night, though, she was wide awake as I closed the book.

"Uncle G?" She asked, still leaning against my arm.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Can you be my daddy too?"

"What?" I asked, a little taken back by her question.

"I love daddy a lot, and he's good at being a daddy. But so are you. You give me stuff to eat, and play games, and tuck me in at night, just like the daddies in all the stories. Doesn't that sort of make you a daddy, too?"

As much as I enjoyed hearing it, I didn't want to encourage any parent-confusion in London's mind. Especially when her real parent situation was confusing enough as it was.

"London, you know that I love you very much, as much as if you were my own daughter, but your daddy is the only one who can really be your daddy."

"Can you still act like you're my daddy, though?"

"Of course."

"Good." She paused for a moment, before speaking again. "Can I call you 'daddy' sometimes?"

"I suppose..." I conceded, "but not while your parents are around."

"Good. I'd like that."

"You know what_ I'd_ like?"

"What?"

"If you went to bed now."

"Can you read one more chapter? _Please_?"

I wanted to tell her no, but she was just so irresistible when she asked sweetly, so I gave in and read one more chapter. By the time it was over, she was beginning to nod off, so I carried her up the stairs and gently tucked her into bed. She awakened momentarily as I laid her down, opening those big, pretty eyes and looking at me lovingly.

"Good night, other daddy," she said softly.

"Good night, London. Sleep well," I replied, walking out of her room with a smile on my face. As long as I was a "daddy" to London, it didn't matter what anyone else thought.

Harvey and Lucy came back to town, and we picked back up with life as usual. I taught high school science on the weekdays, Harvey fought fires at night, Lucy managed her company via telephone, and London – well, she grew up as normally as a child in her position could be expected to. We played board games and watched movies together, we took the cars out for long country drives on the weekends, we even went to church together on occasion. It was like we were a real family, like London was the child that each of us always wanted, but knew we could never have. My life was happy in Oslo. Not perfect, but happy. After 54 years as a vampire, I finally had the peaceful, pleasant existence I had been looking for. All I was missing was one ingredient...


	17. Chapter 16

_16. RUMOR_

- - - CORALINE GRAY - - -

"I hate my life. That's it, plain and simple. I hate it. Can I just go to sleep, and wake up in nineteen ninety-four?"

I knew Grant was probably getting tired of hearing me complain about my life, but I had to vent to somebody, and Harriet was always trying to get me to see the "bright side" of things. I didn't want to see the bright side. There was no bright side. I just wanted a listening ear.

"I'm sorry, Coraline," he replied, almost robotically. "I wish I could do something to make it better..."

"I know. Just listening helps." Harriet always tried to reinterpret things, Grant always thought I wanted him to fix them. _Can't somebody just listen to me complain?_

"So, enough about _my_ life," I said, hoping to stir up a better conversation by changing the topic, "what's new on your end of the world? Still having trouble with that one student?"

"Oh, nothing much of note," he replied, again, robotically, as if he was reading from a script. "Geirmund has been moved to another class, so I don't have to deal with him anymore. Um... let's see... Harvey's still trying to sell his '89. I think he's asking too much, especially up here. There's just not the same market for it. That's... pretty much it, though. So..."

I pulled the phone away from my mouth and sighed slowly. He seemed distant. Distracted, maybe. At least, that's how he seemed. That's what I hated about only talking on the phone – I only got part of the real conversation. If I could see him, touch him, maybe I could get some idea of what he was thinking. As it stood, I got nothing, only boring, half-there Grant. It was frustrating – I felt like I got this version of him almost as often as I got the regular, actually-wants-to-talk-to-me version.

"That's good – that Geirmund got moved," I replied, now more distracted than he was.

"Yes, definitely. Well, I should let you go," he said, as I heard rustling in the background. "I promised Harv and Lucy I'd watch a movie with them, and they're giving me the 'we're waiting on you' look."

"Movie night again, huh? What're you watching this time?"

"The Little Mermaid. And Batman. It's a double-feature night."

_Hmm. Interesting choices..._

"Okay. Well, enjoy," I replied in a ho-hum tone. "I'll call you again Sunday night."

"Alright. Talk to you then. I miss you, Coraline. I can't wait to see you again."

"Yeah, me too. Okay. Bye."

I hung up the phone, dejected and a little irritated. I knew he meant the last line – he said it every time, but I knew he meant it. I just wished that I knew what was so heavy on his mind.

Things were about the same with Grant all through the spring, which only made my annoying life more unbearable. Ever since the end of my 6-month house-arrest, Philippe had been sticking me in one crappy, meaningless job after another. First, it was answering calls and e-mails for him at his office. Then, it was giving the same, boring welcome-to-camp-special tutorial to every newcomer to his school/prison/test lab. I didn't know if the Volturi were really aware of how over-the-top his program was getting, or if they just didn't care, but by 1990, it was getting a little ridiculous. He was bringing in 2 or 3 people a month – some human, some vampire – keeping the best of the best, and spitting the rest out like watermelon seeds. If they were vampires, they might get the chance to leave quietly in the night. If they were humans, they were invariably fed to the more "promising" students.

The job I hated the worst, though, the one that started all the whining to Harriet and Grant, was being a personal assistant to world-class weirdo Elliot Pinter. I grew up in an orphanage for "special" children – I was no stranger to "weird." This was another level. There was "weird," and then there was Elliot. First of all, he always wore the same outfit. I mean, always. Navy slacks, light-blue checkered shirt, cream sweater-vest. Summer, winter, fall, it was always the same. He actually had other clothes – he wore them for the two hours that his signature outfit was at the dry-cleaner's. He couldn't stand anything being dirty – not him, not his house, not anything he touched. He acted like a certified germ-o-phobe, which made absolutely no sense for a vampire. Everything had to be clean. The windows, the steering wheel of his car, the computer keyboard, and pretty much anything else that could conceivably become "dirty."

That was only scratching the surface. Every time he received a fax or a letter, I had to transcribe it _by hand_, since even the finest printers and typewriters had too many imperfections in their printing process. These were perfectionism things – there was plenty of other stuff that was just plain weird. He wouldn't leave his house on Tuesdays. He said they were too "unbalanced." And he insisted on asking his feeder-humans what their favorite flavor of ice cream was before he killed them. And when he went anywhere crowded, he would only walk on the right side of the room, and only while his right hand stayed in his pants pocket. Never got an explanation for that one. We're talking seriously obsessive-compulsive stuff, and I had to play along with every weird rule.

Elliot didn't talk much, and when he did, he only spoke in Latin, which I had to learn in order to keep up with his neat-freak demands. And then, just when I thought I understood him, he would start saying the words backwards. Not the sentence order, the letters. He would spell and pronounce the words backwards, but speak the words in a normal, forward sequence. Talk about hard to follow. It was such a lame act, too. He was from Hartford. He grew up with me in Vermont. Latin? Yeah, it was more than a little pretentious. Elliot was weird, and I had to wait on him hand and foot, sun-down to sun-up, every weekday for the foreseeable future. If that wasn't enough, he also had an immense ego. I didn't think anyone could be more condescending than Philippe, but he somehow managed to outdo even the king of snobbiness. So, that was my life – taking the dry-cleaning, polishing doorknobs, going through a box of pens to find one that didn't have a microscopic blemish on it. It was worse than house arrest.

Harriet still came to visit me once or twice a week, and even though we talked on the phone practically every day, she would always save the more exciting topics (like gossip) to be said in person. She came by, as usual, one afternoon in March, and I could tell just by looking at her that she had something big to tell me. It didn't look like a good something, so I took a deep breath and prepared myself for the worst.

"Hey, Hattie. How're you doing?" I asked, as she walked into my living room without bothering to knock. She looked sick.

"I need to talk to you," she said gravely. My mind immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario.

_Oh, god – who's dead? Please, please don't be... I can't even think it._

"What's wrong?" I asked, as she sat down on the couch. I joined her.

"I heard something – and it might be nothing – but I feel like I have to tell you."

"For god's sake, Harriet! You're killing me, here. What is it?"

She took my hands, exhaled a short little breath, and began.

"Okay, so you know how I was in Paris yesterday for that fashion show?"

"Yeah..."

"Well, you'll never believe who I saw there."

"Who?"

"Lucy Willoughby."

_Oh no, it's about Grant._

"Really?"

"Yeah. She was there with her husband. I tried to get over to talk to her after the show, but there were just way too many people in the way. So there I am, waiting for my plane at the airport, and she walks by, not even noticing me there. I chased her down, and we chatted for a minute."

"Okay..."

"Well, one thing led to another, and so, at one point, I said, 'so Coraline is so miserable without Grant. She talks about him all the time. It's really sad, that whole situation.' So then, she says, 'I know, Grant misses her a lot, too. I used to worry about him, but honestly, between you and me – ever since London's been in the house, he's been a lot happier. I mean, she's just-' and then I interrupted and asked, 'wait – who's London? ' and she got really weird, and started stuttering, and making up something about how she meant to say the house they used to live in back in London, but I could totally tell she was lying. She was fidgety the whole rest of the conversation, like she said something she shouldn't have."

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked, trying to make sense of it in my head.

"Hello? Doesn't that seem a little odd to you? 'Ever since London's been in the house?'"

"What are you saying, Harriet? You think he's... you think he's-"

"Seeing another girl? I could be jumping to conclusions, but..."

"No way. Not possible."

"Think about it, Coraline. You're hundreds of miles away. He's a lonely man. And besides that, you haven't exactly showered him with 'I love you's.'"

"That doesn't matter. He would never do that. He's... he's the most loyal person I know."

"You'd be surprised..." Harriet said, raising her eyebrows in a 'don't-say-I-didn't-warn-you' look. "That's what everyone thought about Cliff and Audrey, and look at them now. I'm just saying, where there's smoke..."

This wasn't the Harriet I used to know. The girl I grew up with always believed the best in people, no matter what things looked like. Ever since she had been part of the 'in' crowd in Volterra, though, she had become a sucker for gossip. At first, she was just a consumer, but now, she was suspect zero in the gossip chain. I didn't like that about her at all.

"Harriet, you don't know what you're talking about, okay. Quit jumping to conclusions."

"It's not much of a jump. Heck, it's barely a step. You owe it to yourself to at least confront him and ask for an explanation."

"Our relationship is about trust. I trust him."

"Maybe you shouldn't."

"What do you want from me, huh? What do you expect me to do – break up with him? It's a little late for that."

"I think you should fight for him. You two are meant to be together. If he's forgotten that, then you need to remind him. Use the 'L' word. Use whatever tricks you have up your sleeve. Don't just ignore the obvious and let him slip away."

"Fine. I'll think about it," I conceded, mostly to get her off my case. I knew she was jumping to conclusions.

Harriet dropped the subject, but after she left, the idea started marinating in my head. I kept thinking about what she said, about what Lucy said, and there was definitely something fishy about it. I knew it was stupid, but I couldn't stop these nagging doubts and fears from buzzing around in my thoughts. _What if he's found somebody else? Somebody who doesn't put his life at risk just by seeing him. She's probably gorgeous, like Heidi. Tall and curvy. Perfect hair. Yeah, and she probably laughs at all his jokes, too... and speaks Russian, and Japanese, and all those other languages he uses just to show off. And I'll bet she tells him all the time how wonderful he is, and how much she loves him, and crap like that. Ugh, god! She's probably totally perfect. _

_No, maybe she's not that special – maybe he's just lonely, and he's experimenting, or something. Yeah. Yeah, maybe it's just physical. I mean, it's not like we've been getting any action going on for a while. Maybe living with his brother and sister-in-law was too much couple-ness, and he just needed a dance partner. Oh, crap – she's probably a great dancer, too. Crap. I have to call him. I'm going crazy, here._

I wrestled with myself for two days, trying to decide whether it was worth calling and risking a blow-up conversation. The doubts only got worse with time, though, and if he _was_ seeing someone else, I deserved to know. The only way I was ever going to find out was to ask, so I went to my usual pay-phone and picked up the receiver. It took me 5 minutes to psych myself up for the call. I almost chickened out twice, but I couldn't let it go. I had to know the truth. I dialed his number, and waited impatiently for him to answer.

"Hello? Willoughby residence..." his polite, formal voice said on the other end.

"Hey. It's me," I said, trying to mask my emotions a little bit. I wasn't doing a very good job.

"Um... hey there. I wasn't expecting you to call yet. Is everything okay?"

"I just wanted to talk."

"Okay, well... okay, hang on." I could tell he covered the receiver on his end, and he was whispering something. With the lousy audio quality on the phone, there was no way for me to make out what he said. All I knew was that he was uncomfortable with me calling at an unexpected time.

That wasn't a good start.

"Okay, sorry about that," he said after a moment. "What's going on?"

"Grant, I need to talk to you about something."

"Alright. What's the matter?"

"Look, I don't want this to be any weirder than it already is, so I'm just gonna say it. I know about London."

"I'm not sure I'm following you," he said, sounding a little uncomfortable. "What about it? The house? My job? The other covens there?"

"No, about London, the person."

There was silence for a minute. _Crap. Harriet was right._

"Who told you?" He asked, with a frustrated sigh.

"It doesn't matter."

"No, it does matter. It matters a lot."

"I don't think that's really the issue, here."

"I need to know, Coraline."

"Fine! It was Lucy. Lucy told Harriet, Harriet told me."

"Look, whatever she told you-"

"Is it true?" I cut him off. There was no time for games. I wanted to know. "London. Is she..." there was a sting like a hot knife in my chest as I forced the words to come out. "Is she... living with you?"

"Well – yes. Of course. What sort of a man do you think I am? I wasn't just going to kick her out on the street."

I closed my eyes, and exhaled slowly. Suddenly, I felt hot and flushed, like my knees were going to buckle, and I was going to drop right there in the phone booth.

"Does she really... make you... happy?"

"Of course. I mean, yes, it's not always easy, you know, but she does. She's a lovely girl."

I could hear the fondness for her in his voice. He really cared about her. _Crap! Not good, not good..._

"I'll bet she's really pretty, too."

"Absolutely. She's an angel. Everyone thinks so."

_Great. That, too._

"Look, Grant... I know I haven't been able to be around, and I know things have been weird, with us being so far apart. I understand if you feel like you need... something else going on in your life. I mean, I get it. Okay? Not saying I like it, but I get it. I just... I need to know... is this a serious thing? I mean, do you... do you love her?"

I was literally shaking as I asked him. Just saying the words made me want to die.

"Absolutely," he said without hesitation.

_That's it. Game over. Checkmate. I lost. It's over. I can't believe it..._ I wanted to say something. I wanted to rip into him, and cut him down to size. I couldn't. I couldn't do anything but sink into a slump on the ground, still hanging onto the phone for some stupid reason, like it was my last connection to him. _"I'll wait for you," he says. What a load of crap. See, Coraline? You can't trust anybody. _Anybody. _Sooner or later, they all let you down. That's what you get for letting your heart go..._

"I know it seems strange, but I do," he continued, after I went quiet. "I don't expect it to make sense to you – it hardly makes sense to me, but it's real. I love her like she was my own daughter, and I never thought I'd feel that way, especially at first, but-"

"Wait – what?" _Did he just say "daughter?"_ My broken heart started to come back to life for an excruciating second.

"um... I, didn't think I'd feel that way at first, b-"

"No, did you say you love her like a _daughter_?"

"Yes. I mean, I know she's not technically mine, but I'd do anything for her."

"London is... a kid?"

"Uh...Yes – she's just over two years old now..."

"Oh my god..." I said, with a huge sigh of relief

"What?"

"I thought... she was-"

"Oh, no – you thought I was romantically involved?"

"I didn't know... from what Harriet heard..."

"Oh, my dear, dear Coraline! I'm so sorry! Oh, dear, I could never... I would never even think about that."

"Wow. That feels so good to hear..."

"Oh, my. I'm so sorry for the misunderstanding. Coraline, I love you. You know that. I am yours forever, come what may. Nothing could ever change that. I'm yours."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have even considered it," I said, finally feeling strength in my body again.

"No, it's my fault. I should have told you sooner. I was just trying to protect you."

"So, who is this girl, then?"

"London is my niece. She was..." he lowered his voice to a whisper. "She was orphaned back at the clinic in Canning Town. Harvey and Lucy adopted her, and she's been living with us ever since."

"You have a human? Living with you?" He was crazy.

"Well, not exactly."

"What do you mean, 'not exactly?'"

"It's... hard to explain. Actually, it's safer for you if you don't know the details."

"Wait a minute – you're not planning to make an immortal child of her, are you?"

"No, certainly not. She's just... a very special girl. There are a lot of people who wouldn't understand her. That's why we've been so secretive. If certain people knew about her, they might try to take advantage of her, or worse."

"By 'certain people,' you mean Philippe?"

"Among others."

"You can tell me. I won't say anything to anyone."

"I'd feel safer if you didn't know the details."

"Okay. Well, then, what _can _you tell me?"

He went on to tell me all about her – what she looked like, what she acted like, how she loved tea like a good little English girl. We talked for another hour and a half before I had to get off the phone, and by the end of the conversation I felt a lot better. It was nice to have the old Grant back again – the one that sounded like he was actually alive, and cared about something. Of course, the thing he seemed to care about the most was that little girl. It was obvious that Grant loved his niece very much – I could hear the pride in his voice as he talked about her. As dumb as it sounded, though, I was still a little jealous. Grant had someone else to spend time with, someone to love and protect. Someone who made him happy. He and Harvey and Lucy had their own little perfect family – only, I wasn't a part of it. In the back of my mind, I worried that there might not be room for me once I got out of Volterra. What if London didn't like me? Who would Grant choose, if it came down to me or her? From the way he gushed about her, I didn't like my odds.

It also bothered me that Grant didn't tell me about her for so long. I knew he was trying to protect me, but it seemed a little too easy for him to keep such a huge part of his life a secret from me. As much as I wanted it to be enough, talking on the phone just wasn't cutting it. I was too far away to have that kind of close relationship with him that I wanted – and needed. As long as I was in Volterra, I was bound to keep moving further and further to the back burner in Grant's mind. I had to get out and be with him as soon as possible. I couldn't keep up this crappy life much longer. I had to get out.


	18. Chapter 17

_17. GROWING PAINS_

- - - GRANT WILLOUGHBY - - -

For three parents that hadn't changed in over forty years, "growth" was a difficult concept to adjust to. I had been tracking London's physical development closely, on the cellular level as well as the general exterior measurements, and she continued to grow at an unnaturally fast pace. Based on all the data I was able to observe from several human control subjects at Lucy's church, London would reach physical maturity in less than 10 years of life. Her first year was slightly more accelerated, but once she hit 13 months or so, her growth curve leveled out, settling on a pace of about 1 human year of development for every six months of her life. It was fast, but reasonable.

Plenty of kids hit their "growing spurts" at different times – humans wouldn't take much note of it. The problem was, London was in a constant growth spurt. We would inevitably have to move often if we wanted her to be able to make friends and attend school. Of course, that was down the road a bit. When we hit our first growth crisis with our little girl, it was a much simpler problem.

London had beautiful hair. It was a golden blond, almost with a hint of brown in the right lighting, and no matter how clean or dirty it was, it always glistened slightly like satin. Though not quite as much as her birth-mother's, her hair had a natural curvature to it, and when it was left alone, it formed large, soft curls that gave it plenty of volume. Everyone noticed and complimented it, and London (as well as Lucy) had become quite fond of it. The only problem was, it kept growing.

By the middle of May 1990, London's hair fell well past her waist, and that was when it was dry and slightly curled. She was about the size and maturity of a 5-year-old girl, and having that much hair just got in the way of everyday life. We tried pinning it up or doing it in braids, but it was too heavy to stay up on her head for long, and the braids were still too long to be practical.

Lucy eventually conceded that London's hair had to be cut, so she purchased a pair of high-end salon scissors and set out to trim the golden curls. I had never actually tested the tensile strength of London's hair, but we soon learned that it was too great to be cut by normal scissors. After demolishing an assortment of different brands and sizes, we realized we were going to need a different approach. I spent countless hours in our in-home makeshift laboratory/metal shop, crafting scissors out of various materials – iron, steel, titanium, even diamond. Nothing worked. We tried crafting a primitive laser, but the light-reflective qualities of her hair rendered that ineffective as well. Lucy and Harvey were ready to resort to biting the hairs off one-by-one, but I hadn't given up on scissors yet. Her hair was just hair – there had to be something that could cut it.

I secured permission to use the research facilities at the University of Oslo, and set out to find a scientific solution. After a solid week of pouring through tens of thousands of research publications, I settled on an obscure Russian finding called a "carbon nanotube." In essence, a carbon nanotube was an allotrope of carbon (other allotropes would include coal, graphite and diamond), where the carbon atoms were aligned in a flat grid, which was rolled on itself to form a microscopic cylinder. This shape provided an enormous amount of rigidity, and could conceivably be used to make a variety of items, including cutting utensils. All I had to do was learn how to make them.

The conventional process of artificially creating nanotubes was costly, time-consuming, and somewhat beyond the scope of my research facilities. Instead, I decided to try something a little more accessible and economical. My mind.

During my time in Havana with Hawkins, I explored many different facets of my mental abilities, one of which was telekinesis on a molecular level. It was still time-consuming (and mentally exhausting), but with a little practice, I was able to build my first carbon nanotube, one atom at a time, using only my mind. I ran some basic tests on the first batch of tubes, and was able to produce some impressive results. The tubes, which were only about 1/50,000th the diameter of a strand of hair, had a tensile strength of about 500 times that of high-carbon steel, and at about 1/10th the weight. I was hopeful that structures built out of my new nanotubes could be made for a variety of uses, but at the time, all I wanted was a good pair of scissors.

After another three weeks of revisions and improvements, I reached the strength I was looking for, and I crafted a small pair of basic scissors completely out of carbon nanotubes (the first pair I tried had only blades made of nanotubes, but in the testing phase, I bent the steel handles off). I brought the experimental tool home, and to everyone's relief and delight, it worked. Sort of.

Even with all the strength of the carbon bonds, the scissors still became gradually duller as Lucy went along, and they were rendered ineffective by the time she got about ¾ of the way through London's hair. Needless to say, I went immediately back to the laboratory and began working on another pair of blades. It took me the better part of a day, but I got the replacement blades back to the house, and Lucy was able to finish the haircut. It wasn't a lot – London's hair still reached her shoulder blades – but it was a definite improvement. I crafted a few pairs of scissor blades to keep on hand (since London's hair had to be cut about once every three weeks), and from that time on, we had no trouble with haircuts.

By mid-summer 1990, London was nearing the size of a 6-year-old, and her other parents and I decided it was time for her to get a little experience out in the human world. We packed up the family, tied up loose ends, and moved across the country to Bergen, a slightly smaller (though equally cloudy) city near the North Sea. Harvey, Lucy and I settled in quickly, resuming our normal occupations and responsibilities, and London started attending the first grade. The fall semester of 1990 went along relatively smoothly, as did Christmas break, and by the time London's 7th birthday came around, we were all ready for a break in the monotony. Of course, as life so often seems to work out, we got more than we bargained for.

London adored Harvey, and took an interest in just about anything he did, so when he rolled up with her 7th birthday present – a brand new, ¾ size motorcycle – it was an instant success. It was a totally customized vehicle – glossy black paint with chrome accents, and "London" written on each side in decorative bright pink lettering. Lucy and I must have taken a hundred pictures of the new biker-girl in her black and pink leather outfit – on the bike, next to the bike, revving up the bike, falling off the bike... It was the perfect gift.

Or so we thought.

It was a Friday evening when London got her motorcycle, and despite our best efforts to convince her to wait until morning, she wanted to take it for a ride right away. Harvey fired up his vintage '51 Harley, and they took off for a brief spin through the winding country roads near our home. They had only been gone 20 minutes or so before Harvey came bursting through the front door, a look of sheer panic on his face. He was holding London's limp body in his arms, and there was no sign of either motorcycle. Something was terribly wrong.

"Grant! Help..." He said, brushing the contents off of the coffee table and laying her body on it gently. My heart sank and my limbs started to feel numb. She wasn't moving at all.

"What happened?" Lucy gasped, bolting into the room, as I quickly moved in to check for her vital signs.

"She wrecked the bike," he said, running his hands through his hair like he did when he was under intense pressure. "Must've hit a patch of black ice, or something. We were going at least a hundred and ten. She went flying off the bike, right into this big chunk of rock. Oh, god, Grant... is she okay?"

I peered into her body, looking for the source of the trouble, when the obvious hit me.

"She's not breathing," I said aloud, bringing the other two into the same panic state that I was in. She was half human. She had to breathe.

Harvey started pacing. Lucy began praying. I kept diagnosing. The smell of her blood was making it hard for me to concentrate. It struck me that I had never actually seen her bleed before. The semi-sweet red fluid was flowing freely from her arm, enabled by the broken ulna that was jutting out through her skin. A quick scan of her heart and brain found them to be structurally intact, but her lungs weren't working at all. It didn't take me long to locate the problem – her neck was broken, along with several of the upper vertebrae of her spine.

"London? London, honey, can you hear me?" I asked, pulling up her eyelids to check for any sign of reflex. I got nothing. Her heart was somehow still beating, albeit faintly, so I knew hope wasn't completely lost. Without oxygen, though, her brain wouldn't survive for long. I called Lucy over to attempt administering CPR, while I tried to exert any kind of influence to repair the severe damage to her central nervous system.

"What's going on, guys?" Harvey asked frantically. "Is she going to be alright?"

"I don't know, Harvey," I replied, without looking up. " I'm still checking things out."

"Well, is there anything I can do to help?" He asked desperately.

"You can try and stop the bleeding," I replied, tearing the sleeve off of my shirt so he could use it as a primitive bandage.

London had never been injured before, so I had no idea how resilient her body would be, or how quickly it would heal itself. All I knew is that a human brain dies after about 6 minutes without oxygen, and she hadn't taken a breath on her own in at least that long. The three of us continued working on her for the next fifteen minutes, and somehow, she stayed with us. Her blood coagulated much more quickly than a human's would, halting the loss of fluid before she got to a critical level, but her lungs still weren't working – it was only Lucy's CPR that filled them with oxygen.

And then I noticed something odd.

"Stop for a minute," I said to Lucy, placing a hand on her shoulder.

She looked up at me with furrowed brows and continued breathing into London's mouth.

"Seriously – just for a moment. I don't think you need to do that anymore."

"Are her lungs better?" Harvey asked excitedly.

"No. But I think she's okay without them – at least for the moment."

Lucy finally conceded and backed away. I took a survey of her body, and the oxygen level in her blood, while a little lower than usual, was staying in a livable range. Her cells had somehow adapted to the situation, and were allowing oxygen in through her skin. There was electrical activity in her brain consistent with normal, unconscious functioning. In fact, it looked like she was in a dreaming state. Apparently, she was more resilient than we gave her credit for.

None of us left her side for the next 10 hours, waiting with hopeful anxiety for her to wake up. I watched the tissues of her body repair themselves – skin, bone, muscle, even nerve bundles. She finally woke up – fully functional but terribly scared, and we all breathed a collective sigh of relief.

After another good night's sleep, her body completely mended itself – it was as if nothing had ever happened. As glad as we were to see her healing abilities, we were more troubled by her susceptibility to injury. Lucy issued a moratorium on motorcycles, skydiving, and other similarly dangerous activities, and we stocked up the house with the sort of medical array that made even the finest hospitals look inferior. If anything drastic were to happen again, we would be ready.

In the summer of 1992, we were all ready to be in an English-speaking town again, so we moved the family to Gloucester, England. Harvey and Lucy were closer to Manchester for managing their clothing company, and I was close enough to get a job teaching at Oxford University, which was a bit of a dream job for me. The move also gave London the opportunity to skip forward a few grades in school.

She was growing up so beautifully, and we all did our best to soak in every moment. Her activities spanned the whole age spectrum, which was occasionally frustrating, but kept things from ever getting dull. She helped her mother design a children's line of clothing and wrote a whole series of teenage romance novels, all the while playing with Barbies and Nintendo games like a regular child. She took a keen interest in font-making one month, and designed over 30 different typefaces, and then the next month, she was playing house with baby dolls. It was enough to make your head spin.

Gloucester was the best scenario yet for her social life. We moved at the beginning of May, and took the chance of living down the street from a few other families with girls London's age (well, her physical age). By July, she had her first non-family birthday party – a week-long sleepover with two of the neighboring girls, including a trip to Barcelona to see the Olympic gymnastics competition. I was as happy as could be for her, and she was happy, too. At least, until November.

I had been asked to pick up a few extra classes at Oxford for the fall semester, and as a result, I usually didn't get home until well after 6pm on weeknights. Normally, Harvey and Lucy would watch London when she got home from school (as if she needed watching), but they spent the first week of November in Manchester to hold a training seminar for the company, so we gave London a key to the house, and she let herself in. I pulled into the driveway one Thursday, and as soon as I stepped out of the car, I knew something was wrong. I heard the sound of short, sporadic breaths, intermingled with the occasional sniffle.

She was crying.

Harvey was normally the pushover of the family – at least, when it came to London. He was completely wrapped around her little finger. I was usually more level-headed, except when she was crying. Seeing her like that always made me want to cry, and to do whatever was necessary to alleviate the problem that was causing the tears in the first place. I sighed gently as I grabbed my suitcase and walked to the door, wondering what the cause was this time. London had been a lot happier in Gloucester, but before moving there, she had become all too acquainted with tears.

_Were the girls mean to her again? _I wondered to myself, setting down my briefcase so I could take off my overcoat. They seemed to be accepting of her for the most part, but then, girls can turn on you in an instant. _Surely it's not schoolwork – her grades have been impeccable. No, it's probably the girls._ Nine times out of ten, London's tears were over social interactions. People wouldn't have thought it from an outsider's perspective, but she needed friends just as much as the gregarious, outgoing type. _I hope it's not Allison. Those two seem to get along so well..._

I switched my mind to parental-wisdom mode and took a deep breath before I stepped into her room to see which friend was the culprit this time.

London was sitting on the edge of her bed, shoulders slumped, head hung low. In her lap was my leather-bound research journal, spotted with teardrops. She turned and looked at me as I stood in the doorway, and my heart crumbled. In the nearly five years of her life, I had never once seen her face carry so much pain. Her eyes cut through me, speaking a combination of bewilderment, sorrow and accusation. I couldn't speak. I couldn't move, or look anywhere else. I was caught in those beautiful eyes as they moistened up with fresh tears.

She knew.

_Oh, London..._

There was a heart-wrenching silence as our eyes conversed – hers seeking explanation and comfort, mine struggling to offer either. Finally, she spoke, her sweet 10-year-old voice wavering as she nearly choked on the words.

"Is it true?"

The sound of her voice only further tugged at my heartstrings. There was no sense in trying to lie to her, or even putting a positive spin on things, for that matter. She knew the truth – it was sitting in her lap.

"London, I..."

"I'm... a throw-away child. An orphan..."

"No, London, no. You're nobody's castaway. You are a part of this family-"

"Really? Which part? The part that you're embarrassed of? The part that you're scared someone will find out about?"

"No! Never-"

"Yeah, the part that was just dropped on you."

"Sweetheart, listen... your parents and I-"

"They're not my parents!" she interrupted, bursting into sobs. "My mother's dead, my father didn't want me, and you're just the poor people who got stuck with me."

"Oh, honey... we're not stuck with you," I said, moving over to sit next to her on the bed. She shrunk away from me. "And I'm sure your biological father would want you, if he knew you existed, but he doesn't, and we have no way of finding him. We've tried-"

"Really? You've tried? It says in here that you were trying to keep me away from everybody, especially him."

"You're right," I said with a slow exhaled breath. "But you have to know, everything we did was because we wanted you to be safe. Honey, you are so special... the world just isn't quite ready for you."

"In other words, I'm a freak," she replied bitterly.

"No, not at all."

"Yes. Yes, I am. That's why I don't fit in anywhere. I'm not like you, and I'm not like them either – the humans. I shouldn't have ever been born."

"Hey, that's not true. I was there at your birth. I was there the moment you opened your eyes for the first time. Your coming into this world was a miracle, not a curse."

"It doesn't seem that way to me."

"London-"

"Why didn't you tell me? Did you think I was too young to understand? Did you think I wouldn't ever figure it out?"

"We did it to protect you. I'm sorry, I should have told you sooner."

"Is anything you've ever told me true?"

"Of course! Nearly everything."

"I'm not going to be like... like _Lucy_ when I get older, am I? I'm just gonna grow old and die like a human."

"I truly don't know, London. I don't think you'll grow old, though. At least, not for an exceptionally long time."

"Yeah, but you don't know, do you? I could die tomorrow for all you know. Even with all your experiments on me, you still don't know. Sorry I made a bad lab-rat."

"London Willoughby, you are not a lab-rat. You're my daughter."

"Yeah, I'm a lab rat. It's okay, you can say it. I'm just a puzzle for you to figure out. It makes sense – I'm messed up enough to keep you busy studying for a long time."

"The only reason I've studied you is to help you, to understand how to give you the highest quality of life that I possibly can. I can stop the research if it'll help – it's not important. You are."

I reached my arm over and placed it gently around her shoulder, she reluctantly inched closer, still keeping a little distance.

"Tell me about my mother," she said, staring down at the carpet.

"Well, I didn't have the opportunity to get to know her," I replied softly, "but from what I could tell, she was a fine young woman. She was very pretty – she had warm, brown eyes and blond hair that curled up just like yours. In fact, you look a lot like her."

"You always called her as 'the mother' in your book. What was her name?"

"Her name was Amelia. That's why we gave you your middle name, to honor her."

"And why did you name me after a city?"

"We didn't. Your mother named you. It was the last thing she ever said."

"Really?"

"Really. She loved you very much. That was easy to see."

She went silent again for a moment. I could see new tears welling up in her eyes.

"I killed her. It's my fault she's dead."

"No, no... it's nobody's fault," I replied, pulling her close to me. "Sometimes bad things happen, and we don't have any control over it. It was just your mother's time to go. It wasn't your fault."

"But- if it wouldn't have been for me-"

"If it wouldn't have been for you, the world would be a sadder place. You are a blessing, London. The world is a better place with you in it."

"I'm just... I'm no good for anybody."

"Hey now, you know that's not true."

"Yes it is. My mother's dead because I was too strong for her to deliver, and you and Harvey and Lucy, you have to move all the time, and hide from everybody so that those 'Volturi' people don't kill you. I'm just bad luck for everyone."

"I know it's easier said than done, but you have to forgive yourself for your mother's death. It was not your fault, and if she were here, I know that she would forgive you, too. And as for me, you are not a burden. I could have given you away to another good home, but I didn't. I chose to keep you, to raise you, along with your adopted mother and father. I chose this path, knowing full well all the sacrifices I would have to make to walk along it, and do you know why?"

"...why?" she half-whispered, her voice cracking.

"Because I love you... so very much. This book that you're holding, it's only part of the story. What I didn't write down in there is how attached I was to you from the moment I saw you... how my heart sang the first time you smiled at me, how I still keep a picture of you with me everywhere I go, just so I can feel close to you. London, I love you more than my own life. I know I kept things from you – I lied to you, and for that, I'm sorry, but you have to know... I may not be your biological father, but I love you more than any biological father could ever love his little girl. You're not an orphan. You have a mother and father who love you dearly, who hang on your every word, and you have me."

She buried her head into my chest, and cried intensely for a long time. I held her close, as she went from chest-heaving sobs to quiet, sniffly tears, until she had cried it all out. We sat there without words, responding emotionally to the conversation. She finally spoke again, barely above a whisper.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For everything. For accusing you of being selfish and just using me for experiments. You're a really good dad."

"Oh, sweetheart... you're an even better daughter. I'm the one who should be apologizing. You had every right to be angry. I promise, from now on, I'll tell you the truth about everything that I possibly can, okay? You can ask me anything – about yourself, about your mother... anything at all."

She nodded, sniffling again, as a few sporadic tears continued to come like aftershocks.

"I think I need some alone time," she said, pulling her head away from me."

"That's just fine. Take as much time as you need. I'll be here whenever you feel like talking about it again, okay?"

"Okay," she nodded.

"Hey – London," I said, gently turning her chin to face me and brushing a lonely tear aside with my thumb. "I love you."

"I know," she said, with a reluctant, mouth-only smile. "I love you, too."

I hugged her again before leaving the room. I left the research journal there with her, in case she wanted to do more exploration on her own. She was old enough – she deserved to know the truth. Despite how short the years seemed to me, she was growing up, fully adult in many respects. _Where did the time go?_ I mused, as I walked back to the living room for a little alone time of my own. _One day you're buying diapers from the supermarket, and the next thing you know, she's becoming a little woman. If only time could work that way for Coraline..._

The person who really needed to talk to London was Coraline. If anyone could relate to growing up as an orphan, to being 'special' and treated accordingly, it would be her. I glanced over at the calendar on the wall: Two years. Two years, one month and thirteen days. That's all I had to wait through, and then, finally, my family would be complete. I said a silent prayer, asking for the time to go by faster. Little did I know, somebody up there was listening...


	19. Chapter 18

_18. BREAKING POINT_

"No _way_! Are you kidding me? This is totally awesome!" London's face lit up like the Christmas tree that was still standing in the background, a few weeks overdue for taking down. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the proof of my claim. Her smile got even brighter.

"Two tickets: fifty-yard-line, six rows back," I said smugly, more than a little self-satisfied with her reaction.

"Oh, my gosh, dad, this is, like, the coolest birthday present ever!" She beamed. Now that she was older, the official story was that I was her father, and Lucy and Harvey were her aunt & uncle. In the house, though, Harvey and I were both "dad."

"I can't believe I get to watch the Cowboys in the Superbowl!" She continued. "How did you get tickets?"

"I have a few friends in high places," I said nonchalantly. "I was planning on getting you the tickets for a while, but I wasn't sure the Cowboys would get there. That's just icing on the cake."

"Are you kidding?" She replied. "The Cowboys in the Superbowl _is_ the cake. And I get to watch it in person." All of a sudden, the obvious hit her. She turned to Harvey. "Wait – what about you? Are you coming, too?" Harvey, London and I were probably the three biggest Cowboys fans in the entire world. It just wouldn't have been the same without him there.

"I guess you can tag along, Harv," I said teasingly, pulling out a third ticket.

"Oh, I love you guys!" London said, coming over to give me a hug, then moving to Harvey and Lucy. "And what about you, mom?" she asked Lucy with eyebrows creased in mild concern. "you're not gonna get too lonely here by yourself, are you?"

"Oh, don't worry about me," she replied with a reassuring smile. "I've got a whole semester's worth of 'All My Children' to catch up on. I'll be just fine."

"Oh my gosh – that's in two days!" London blurted, suddenly realizing how near the big event was.

"We fly out first thing in the morning," I replied with a pleased smile. "You'd better start packing."

She rushed off to pack her favorite outfits, and early the next morning, the three of us flew out of Manchester, landing in New York City and taking a connecting flight to Los Angeles. The NFL's championship game that year was set to be played at an outdoor stadium, which meant that Harvey and I had to take extra precautions in order to avoid detection as vampires. Fortunately, this wasn't our first outdoor event.

Before leaving for the stadium, we both covered ourselves in navy and silver paint (the Cowboys' team colors), making sure to get every inch of exposed skin accounted for. London didn't want to be left out of the fun, so we painted silver stars on her cheeks, and the three of us set out for the big game. She had a bit of a crush on the team's young, star quarterback, Troy Aikman, so we let her wear his jersey, and we went along dressed like Michael Irvin and Emmitt Smith, collectively known in the football world as "The Triplets."

We packed up our foam fingers and air-horns, and navigated the intense traffic to get to the game, settling into our seats about two hours before kickoff. London was beaming the entire time, talking nonstop about football, the girls at her school, and how cute Troy Aikman looked as he came out onto the field to warm up. Harvey and I were beaming too – it was infinitely rewarding to see our little girl so happy. The game went very well (at least, for Cowboys fans), ending in a 52-17 Cowboys win. Troy Aikman was voted the game's most valuable player. Michael Jackson performed for the half-time show. It was as perfect an evening as we could have asked for.

If only it could have ended that way.

We stuck around for a while after the game, taking photos, recounting our favorite moments from the game, and (more importantly) allowing the bulk of the crowd to thin out. Eventually, we made our way out to the parking lot, and were about to re-enter our rental car when I heard my phone ringing.

I had been keeping a close eye on the development of mobile telephone technology for some time, and by the end of 1992, things had advanced to the point where I decided to buy one. Normally, reception on devices like mine was non-existent anywhere outside of Japan (and a test-market area of Chicago), but with a little mental assistance, my phone could pick up incoming calls from anywhere within a 5-mile radius of a usable antenna tower. I assumed that it was Lucy calling, eager to hear how the game went, so I answered the phone accordingly.

"Hello, this is Grant, fan of the world champion Dallas Cowboys..."

"Grant – I need you to help me calm down, 'cause I'm about to lose it, here," the exasperated voice replied on the other line. It was Coraline, and from the sound of it, she was in trouble again.

"What's going on?" I asked, instantly concerned. My mind jumped to a thousand conclusions (most of them negative) as I waited the half-second for her response.

"They're making me stay," she said, obviously frustrated.

"Who are? Making you stay where?"

"In Volterra. Yeah, I just found out. My 50-year sentence has been revoked. They're making me stay here indefinitely."

"What? Wh-they... they can't do that..."

"Yeah, well they just did, and I'm about to totally freak out over it."

Harvey and London were listening in, concerned. I motioned for them to sit in the car, but I had a feeling they'd still be listening – at least, to my side of the conversation.

"Okay, let's just calm down," I replied, talking as much to myself as to her. "Why don't you start from the beginning – what brought this on? It seems a little abrupt..."

"It's all because of that stupid little creep. Elliot. That, and my stupid mouth. It's just... ugh, I am so stupid sometimes."

"What did you do?"

"Well, you know how I've been telling you about all the weird stuff Elliot's been doing lately, and how it just gives me a bad feeling?"

"Yes..."

"Well, it's been getting worse over the last month or so – a lot worse. I can't quite put my finger on it, but something is seriously off with that guy. Whatever he's been doing, it's really not good, and he lies about everything. I thought about saying something to Philippe, but I think he's in on it, whatever it is, 'cause I was getting the same bad vibe from him. I know, I know... I should have just sat on it, but I had to go open my big mouth and say something to Demetri."

"What did you tell him?"

"Just that I've been noticing some shady stuff going on with Elliot, and possibly Philippe, and that he should keep a closer eye on them. He knows about my ability, so he believed me."

"Okay, so..."

"So that was two days ago. Nothing happened, nothing changed. Then, all of a sudden, I get a letter under my door, explaining how my sentence has been extended indefinitely, due to 'behavioral issues.' They didn't even specify what I was being accused of, because, of course, I didn't actually do anything wrong."

"That's not right. They can't do that. Did you talk to Demetri?"

"Yeah. He said the order came down from the big three. It had the official seal on it, and everything."

"So it was Philippe's doing, then..." _the bastard! I'll tear him in two..._

"Of course. Who else? I must have been onto something. He pulled me off of my job with Elliot, too. I'm confined to the house until further notice."

"Wait – is it safe for you to be talking to me, then?"

"It's okay. Wesley showed me how to get around the wire tap they have set up here, in case I ever needed it in an emergency."

"So, what does this mean, then? Are they serious about this? You were supposed to be released in less than two years."

"Yeah, it's serious. I called Harriet, and she double-checked with the big three herself. It's permanent. She tried speaking up for me, but they wouldn't listen."

"I didn't realize she had an audience with them..."

"She still does plenty of work for them – she's one of their favorite toys."

"Well, is there someone else they'll listen to? I mean, besides Philippe."

"What's the use? They'll do whatever he wants. He just turns on the persuasion, and they don't even try to resist it. It's hopeless."

"Well, there has to be some way out of this. I mean, they can't just hang you out to dry. You were supposed to be done in _two years_. It can't... this can't happen."

"Hmph! I've got a way out of it."

"What?"

"I'm gonna break outta here. They're not guarding the house."

"Hey! Wh-don't... don't even think about it."

"I'll do more than think about it."

"That's not a real option. You know that."

"No, Grant, what I know is that I've been in this hell-hole for so long I don't even remember what it was like to live with any kind of freedom at all. I've given forty-eight freakin' years to this stupid place. I'm not giving forty-eight more. I'm not gonna do it."

"Listen, I know you're mad. I'm mad. I'm about to throw this phone across the parking lot, okay? But don't do anything foolish."

"I'm not staying here. You don't understand – you're not here. _I can't stay_."

"For God's sake, Coraline, please... _please_ don't do anything rash. We will figure a way out of this, I promise. I will find a way, or I will make a way. I won't let you rot in there, I swear it. But you've got to be level-headed about it. If you try to run against the Volturi's orders, they'll kill you."

"I'd rather die than stay here another fifty years."

"You don't mean that."

She didn't respond.

"Coraline-"

"I swear to god, Grant... I am so tired of this."

"Listen to me, Coraline. We're gonna get you out of there. It won't be right away, but you can't give up. Not yet. I need you. I need you to stay alive. Please, please promise me you'll wait a little longer until we can work out a solution."

"I can't promise you anything."

"Please, Coraline. I am begging you."

She went quiet for a long moment. "Grant... what if we can't find a way?"

"We can."

"What if we can't? I can only do this for so long."

"I swear to you – I will move heaven and earth to ma-"

"Crap – someone's coming," she whispered, cutting me off. "I have to go. I'll – I have to go."

She hung up the phone, and all the anger I had been holding beneath the surface came erupting to the top. I threw the $700 mobile phone across the parking lot, knelt down, and punched a hole in the asphalt beneath me, letting out a long growling yell. This was beyond unfair. It was downright evil, and I wasn't going to take it lying down.

I collected myself for a moment before opening the driver's side door of the rental car. Harvey and London were wide-eyed with surprise and shock.

"Harvey, I need you to drive," I said, trying my best to remain calm. "I'm far too angry to operate heavy machinery right now."

"Of course," he said, electing not to mention the subject of my wrath.

I walked around and climbed into the passenger's seat.

"That's not right, what they're doing to Aunt Coraline," London said angrily as we pulled out of our parking space. "That's total crap!"

"Hey – watch that language, young lady!" Harvey snapped. "I don't want you using that word."

"Sorry," she said meekly. "But it still is."

"It's very unfair of them," I said flatly.

"What are you gonna do?" She asked me. I could tell by the tone of her voice, she was ready to storm Volterra and break Coraline out that evening.

"I'm going to see to it that she gets out of there," I replied with narrowing eyes. "Don't you worry about it."

The whole situation infuriated me. Not only was it unjust to keep her there beyond her sentence, but now, for all I knew, her very life was in danger. Obviously, she had stumbled upon a piece of evidence the powers-that-be didn't want getting out. It was only a matter of time (probably dependent on Philippe's fondness for her) before they might decide to silence her for good. I couldn't just sit by and let that happen. I had been patient. I had played things by the rules, even when they were grossly unjust. I had put up with a lot over the years, but I had to draw the line somewhere, and Volterra had just crossed it. It was time to take matters into my own hands.

As soon as we were back home, I began making plans. My home office became a war room, as I contemplated every conceivable strategy, from blackmail to assassination to mind control. If there was a way to get Coraline out of there, I was going to find it. I just hoped that I found it before something happened to her.

- - - CORALINE GRAY - - -

"You've gotta be kidding me! I'm not going through Bulgaria with those two idiots. Seriously, Moses – Philippe has totally lost it. You _can_ see that, right?"

Moses just grimaced. He knew as well as I did what was going on. I was being punished. This was above and beyond, though. Going through Bulgaria with Carlton and Kale was more like a death sentence than a punishment.

"I don't make the rules, Curly," he replied with an "oh well" expression. "I just deliver them. It might not be so bad, though. You're not going anywhere near Sofia, so that'll help. And Carlton's not _totally_ useless..."

"Yeah, but Kale is a total moron. You know who's going to end up doing all the work."

"Ah, but you're a strong one, remember? You can bring in this... what's her name?'"

"Helena," I sighed.

"Yeah, see? You're already on top of it. You can bring her in with one hand tied behind your back."

"Thanks for the pep talk," I half-mumbled with a sinking frown.

"Well, I have other people to tick off tonight, so I'll leave you to it. Your ride should be here in twenty minutes."

"Guess I'd better pack my stuff, huh?"

He patted me a little too strongly on the shoulder with a mild chuckle, and walked to the door, pausing at the doorway.

"Good luck, Curly. Hope you come back in one piece. Otherwise, I won't have anyone to pick on around here."

He winked. I rolled my eyes. _If_ I made it back in one piece, Moses would be the only thing here I wouldn't mind coming back to. Sometimes I wondered if it would just be better not to come back at all. At least that way, I'd have an end to my misery.

It had been 7 weeks since Philippe had locked me down, and my life had actually been worse than before (yeah, I didn't think it was possible, either. Apparently, there are layers and layers of hell). I had not seen him nor Elliot since the new sentence was rolled out. Instead, I had house-arrest and collection duty. When Philippe's talent scouts found a target that didn't want to be brought in, they sent the collectors. The powerful, more promising targets would get equally powerful specials sent to capture them, but most of the time, it was a job for grunts. Throw-aways. That was my job now – chase down gifted vampires who would rather kill you than go along peacefully, and try not to get your head torn off.

This was already my third trip into Bulgaria, and by this point, it was just dumb luck that I hadn't been killed yet. The established coven in Bulgaria was overthrown in 1989, and ever since, it served as a haven for people who didn't want to be found. Some people said Sofia was even more dangerous than the S.O.A.'s territory in western India. I knew first hand how crazy it got in there, and I didn't want to go back, especially not with a couple of goobers like Carlton and Kale. To say they were totally worthless would be a compliment. I didn't have a choice, though. I never had a choice anymore, so I put on an old pair of work jeans and a sweatshirt, and waited for the car to come by and pick me up.

A Ford minivan pulled up at my house 20 minutes late, with my two clueless partners inside. Once I climbed in, we headed north, driving all day long around the Mediterranean coast, and arrived in Bulgaria the next evening. I sat in the back the whole trip, trying to drown out their rap music and disgusting sexual jokes with my Walkman. Schubert and Schumann didn't really go along with the constant thumping of the sub-woofer next to me, so I gave up after a while and just felt sorry for myself. I was going to die like this – on some pointless suicide mission for a man I hated. That's probably what he wanted – for me to die here. That way, he could get rid of me, and blame it on someone else.

Philippe had been trying to woo me for years, but in '91, he changed completely, and acted like he wanted nothing to do with me. He probably just got tired of waiting. Anyway, my hellish life got even worse, sliding all the way down to my all-time low, listening to a couple of brainless thugs talk about Heidi's boobs for nine hours straight. If this "Helena" character didn't kill me, I might do the job for her.

Our intel said that she was holed up near the city of Sliven, a couple hundred miles east of Sofia near a large mountain range. Supposedly, she could neutralize electrical devices around her. Of course, you never really knew what people could do, only what Philippe claimed. For all I knew, she was a mind-reader, or she could shoot fireballs out of her eyes. Or maybe he just thought she was hot. I didn't really care, I just wanted to get out of the van as soon as possible.

We were crossing the mountain range from the north early in the evening, when I heard a really bizarre sound mixed in with the pounding bass line and mindless chatter in the front seats. I leaned up to see what was making the sound, and saw it just before it hit us – a rocket-propelled grenade.

_Great. So I_ am_ going to die here._

The explosive didn't technically hit the van – Carlton actually managed to see it at the last minute, and he jerked the van left to try and avoid it. The explosion still hit nearby, though, and combined with the sudden force put on the wheels, it sent the van rolling down the side of the mountain. I braced myself as the minivan started tumbling, trying to figure out my best chance of survival. If I was going to die, I wasn't about to go down easily.

I put my hands against the side wall of the vehicle, and got ready to make my break. I didn't like the idea of facing what was on the other side of the flimsy aluminum wall, but it sounded better than exploding into a ball of flames at the bottom of the hill when the guerrillas fired another grenade or two. I punched my fist through the wall, and quickly pulled the metal apart far enough to squeeze through. As soon as I was out, I was running. I didn't even look back to see what happened to the other two guys. They were on their own – I was getting out of there.

I took off in a dead sprint over the rocky, uneven soil, jumping here and there between depressions in the hillside. After a hundred feet or so (which I covered in no time at all), I risked a glance over my shoulder. The van was still rolling. I couldn't tell if the others were still inside or not, but there seemed to be some commotion going on a little further down the hill. I whipped my head back around to look at where I was going, and doing so must have drawn someone's attention. I heard some shouting in a foreign language, and then someone shouting back in German.

"That's her – the long-haired one. Hurry!"

_Oh, crap. They're after _me.

I ran even faster, trying to get anywhere with cover, but everything seemed to be working against me. I kept landing on rocks that crumbled or rolled beneath me. Before long, I could smell them getting near, and then out of the blue, someone grabbed my ankle and brought me down face-first on the jagged ground. I whirled around with my other leg, and kicked the guy in the head so hard that it hurt _me_. It wasn't much, but it was enough to make him let go, and I climbed back to my feet to keep running. I lost too much momentum, though, and the others were right behind me.

I tried turning uphill, hoping my small size would give me an advantage moving against gravity, but they still closed on me, and before I had gone ten steps, I felt huge, python-like arms wrap around my midsection from behind, pinning my arms down to my side. I yelled and growled and wiggled, but the grip was too tight. I couldn't break free. I did manage to land a head-butt to the guy's face, but even though I probably broke his nose, he didn't let go. In a split-second, there were three other vampires in front of me, none of which I recognized. They were trying to close in on me to finish me off, but I was kicking my legs violently. The first one that tried something got kicked in the chest, and the second one got a broken jaw. I could only do so much, though, and eventually, they teamed up and each grabbed a leg. Then, out of nowhere, everything was dark.

When I regained consciousness, everything was a blur – sounds, smells, sights, even thoughts. I blinked my eyes and tried to get them to focus on something. I felt like I was moving, and from what my eyes could make out, it looked like I was in the back of a big panel-van, or something like that. I looked around the blurry van, and from what I could count with my inhibited brain, there were four other vampires in the vehicle with me – a woman and three men. I tried to lift my head to get a better view, but I didn't have the strength to do it – I didn't even have the strength to keep my eyes open. I let them close, and focused all my energy on my mind, trying to figure out what in the hell was going on.

_Think! Think, Coraline. What's the... what's, um... ugh! I can't even think straight. Okay, what... is... happening... I'm still alive. Okay, so that means... um... they said 'that's the one,' or something like that. They were, um... um, looking for me. Okay, why? Why would they want you? It's too many to be working with Helena. She was a loner. No... okay, what else? Think! What else could be, um... Is Philippe trying to kill me off? No, 'cause I'd be dead. Holy crap, Coraline! Think. Use your brain... um... wait – the S.O.A. They hate Philippe. They're still... yeah, they hate him. Bad. He killed their leader-guy's girlfriend. Right? Or, was that with the, um... no, no that was the S.O.A. Okay, so are they going to kill me, then? Like, in public? Maybe... um, maybe they're going to torture me, or something. Great. Life spits on me again. Seriously! Why couldn't I just die in the van?_

I tried to open my eyes again, but this time, the woman noticed. She nudged the tall one, and the next thing I know, everything was back to black.

The next time I woke up, I was buckled into a seat, and one of the men was looking right at me. He was a handsome man, dark-haired and well-dressed, and he spoke with a rich, smooth voice that sounded like it had some kind of British accent to it.

"Hello there, Coraline Gray. I need you to do me a favor."

I opened my mouth to try to say "Go screw yourself," but all that came out was "Gumphrlll guhg.."

He turned to the tall one again. "Hey, could you?"

I felt a strange, cold tingling sensation, and gradually, my mouth became more movable.

"Forget it," I said as defiantly as possible with my still-sloppy speech.

"Hmm... I figured you might say that. A little help please, buttercup?" he said to the woman in the front seat. She didn't move, but I started to feel weird again. Suddenly, I couldn't remember how I got here in the first place. I couldn't remember who these people were, or why I was mad at them. After a moment, I couldn't even remember what my name was.

"Did you... just ask me a question?" I asked, totally confused. Between the blurriness thing and the memory loss, I felt like I was on some kind of drug-induced high.

"Yes. I'd like you to accompany me and my friends onto our private jet."

"Why?"

"Because if we carry you in there, the airport personnel will get suspicious."

"Oh, okay. Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise," he said, as the van came to a stop. He opened the door and unbuckled my seatbelt. "Right this way, please," he continued, helping me out of my seat, and propping me up as I walked across the tarmac toward the small jet he was speaking of. I felt really clumsy, like my legs were made of putty. The handsome one said something to the human flight director about me having too much to drink, and then we climbed onto the plane. As soon as I was inside, everything went numb again.

When I woke up the next time, I was in the back of another van – at least, that's what it seemed like. It was dark inside, like all the windows had been covered up. I couldn't really make out much – everything was super-blurry again, and I could hardly open my eyes. I could hear the kidnappers, though. They were talking about me – warbled and indiscernible at first, but getting clearer as time went by.

"We're early. He should be here any minute," one of them said. It wasn't the woman or the handsome one.

"Is she ready?" the woman asked.

"She's close enough," another one said through a thick accent that sounded Russian. "I'll bring her out when it's time."

"Yeah, that's a good idea," the handsome one said. "She's a feisty one, just like he said. The longer she's out, the better."

"Is this it, then? Are we finished?" the thick-accented one asked.

"We hand her off, and we go home."

"And what happens to her then?"

"That's up to him. I'm sure he's got plans. As far as we're concerned, though, she's dead. Got it?"

There was silence for a moment. _I'm as good as dead_, I thought to myself, succumbing to the sinking feeling in my stomach. _That's it. They're turning me over to be tortured and killed. Oh, Grant! I wish I could see you just one more time, even for a moment... I wish I could kiss you and tell you I love you. I wish..._

I laid there in silence for an undetermined amount of time, letting my soul go as numb as my body. I didn't really care anymore. At least it was over.

After a while, there was a commotion in the van. I started coming back to my senses, and I could hear the sound of car tires in the distance. _Well, here it goes..._

"Wake up, buttercup," the handsome one said, patting me on the cheek. "Time for the hand-off."

Normally, I would have grabbed his hand and ripped it off. I would have bitten and kicked and clawed my way out of there – or died trying. I didn't care, though. I ran out of _care_ too long ago. I just sat there apathetically, helpless as the prisoner in _The Pit and the Pendulum_.

Only, no one was coming to save me at the last minute.

"How are you feeling, Coraline?" the tall, Russian-accented one asked. He seemed to be genuine enough, so I drummed up the effort to reply.

"Like I'm on Valium," I said plainly.

"Sorry about that. I'm doing my best..."

He was about to say more when the woman interrupted.

"He's here."

The handsome one turned to me. "There's someone here who's very interested to speak to you. Do try and be on your best behavior..."

He reached behind him and casually knocked on the window of the sliding door. Almost instantly, the door slid open, flooding the van with blinding, flashing light that bounced off of my captors' skin like lightning bolts. I could see the silhouette of a man standing in the doorway, glimmering like the rest of us.

This was it.

Finally, after hours of lethargy, a flood of emotions rushed through me. I couldn't make out his face, but I didn't need to. I recognized the scent.

It was him.


	20. Chapter 19

_19. REUNION_

- - - GRANT WILLOUGHBY - - -

_Beautiful._

That's all I could think through the seconds that felt like hours. _She's so beautiful..._

I hadn't seen Coraline's face in 13 years – I had somehow forgotten how magnificent it really was. She just sat there in the van, speechless, motionless as the sunlight danced across her like radioactive fireflies. She wore an expression of confusion, mixed with hope and uncertainty – intense, desperate. We stayed there for forever-long seconds, our bodies too frozen with surreal relief to move. She spoke at last, filling the van with the symphonic beauty of her voice.

"Grant?"

The sound was hardly above a whisper, but it rang as loudly as trumpets in my soul. This was really happening. At last, we were free. The rest of the world finally caught up with our blazing emotions, and she came dashing out of the van, striking me like a meteor, as her arms wrapped around me, head pressed to my chest.

"I've got you," I whispered to her softly, as I held her motionless in the sunlight. "You're safe now. We're safe."

I glanced over her shoulder, meeting eyes with Hawkins and nodding slightly in a "thank you" gesture. He winked, and mouthed "she's all yours," before closing the van door and disappearing with it into the distance. She spoke again, head still resting against me.

"I don't understand... how..."

"I wasn't going to let you rot away in there, or be killed by some random insurgents. I had to get you out."

"So, those men..."

"Old friends of mine. From Havana."

"Hawkins?"

"Yes. And a few of his new associates."

"Did you... tell them to attack my van?"

"... I told them to make it believable. Perhaps they got a little carried away with the realism..."

"I was traveling with two other guys..."

"They're fine. Well, mostly. I'm sure Philippe won't be too happy when they come back empty-handed and missing you."

"Are you sure we're safe?" she asked, pulling back so she could look at me as she spoke. "As soon as they find out I'm missing, they'll all come looking."

"Not this time," I replied with a confident smile. "I've taken care of everything. After your van was attacked, Hawkins and his gang subdued your partners, and one of his associates mucked around with their memories. They can't remember any details about what happened, only that you were dismembered and burned."

"But, I wasn't."

"We helped them come to that conclusion. Your 'ashes' are being delivered to Philippe's doorstep as we speak."

"My ashes?"

"Some leftovers Hawkins had from another job. They borrowed a few strands of your hair to add to the mix, in case they tried to identify it. We left an eighty-foot-long flaming 'S.O.A.' on the side of the mountain, along with a nasty hate-letter to be delivered with your ashes. I'm sure everyone will get the right idea."

"Yeah, but – what about Demetri? Philippe's not stupid. If he thinks there's anything fishy about all this-"

"Demetri's in on it," I interrupted.

"What?"

"Seriously."

"How?"

"You know how much he loathes Philippe. All we had to do was present the idea to him, and he practically volunteered to help. He will be conveniently unable to find any evidence of you being alive, if Philippe should seek it."

"You talked to Demetri?"

"Oh no – I was completely on the outside of everything. Hawkins did the negotiating. I was just the man behind the curtain, pulling the strings."

She was still for a moment, most likely thinking through all the details of the scenario to be sure I hadn't forgotten anything.

"Who else knows about this?" She asked, probably implying Harriet and Wesley.

"The four people in that van with you, Harvey, Lucy, Hermes and Demetri. And us, of course. We can bring Wes and Harriet in on it as soon as it's safe."

"And what about London?"

"She knows you'll be coming to live with us in the near future. That is, of course, if you want to."

"Is this real? Are we really-"

"Free? Yes. At long last."

She kissed me briefly, before burying herself into me again.

"I can't believe this is really happening," she said, sounding emotional – almost tearful. "I thought I was never going to see you again."

"I'd never let that happen," I replied, holding her tightly. "The world's not right without us together. I'm not right."

"Me neither."

We held each other there for a long time, before she pulled away again to speak.

"So... where are we, exactly?"

"The Swiss Alps. Near the Austrian border," I replied, nonchalantly. "I saw this place in a dream once. It was perfect – you were there, it was sunny and a little breezy, just like today. And then I realized this place was from my memory. I passed through here with Wesley once, and it really stood out to me. I thought you might like it."

"It's beautiful. Are you sure we're okay to be... you know, _shiny_ out here, though?" She held out her perfect hand, rotating it in the sunlight.

"Take a deep breath," I replied. "What do you smell?"

She drew in a long breath. "Evergreens. Primroses... Soldanellas and Gentians..."

"Exactly. No blood. No vampires. Just you and me and nature. There's not another sentient being for forty miles in every direction. Like I said, we're safe here."

"You are amazing," she replied, smiling at me with her eyes.

"Well, I do try," I joked.

"You do a very good job at it."

"Thanks."

I got stuck there looking at her smiling face, and it must have shown on my expression.

"Okay, you can stop staring now," she said with an almost embarrassed smile, looking away and blocking my line of sight with her hand.

"Hey, wait – you're ruining my view," I said, playfully pulling her hand to the side.

"Stop it!" she laughed, initiating a battle of hands – hers blocking her face, mine _un_blocking it. She gave up trying after a moment, wearing a teasing pout.

"There, that's better," I said with a smile.

"You're not allowed to look at me, okay?" She replied, turning away again. "You're making me self-conscious."

"You want me to seriously not look at you at all?"

"No, you know what I mean. I look gross right now. I've been almost blown up, chased down a mountain, drug through the dirt and crammed in the back of a van, all thanks to you. I'm not exactly looking my best."

"Oh, Coraline... your worst is better than anyone else's best. By far. You look beautiful."

"Yeah, thanks," she said sarcastically. "I'm sure you find my work jeans really sexy."

"They're not so bad," I responded playfully. "I like a girl who's not afraid to get a little dirty."

"Well, I kinda look like a man, so... sorry."

I debated whether or not to offer my next idea. I knew it was a little presumptuous, maybe even a little silly, but I couldn't help being a romantic.

"I could help with that... if it would make you feel better," I said with a nervous smile.

"Okay..."

"Stay right there." I went about thirty yards away, where I had stashed a few items I thought I might need, and pulled out a lightweight sundress – orange, with white floral embroidery – just like the one in my dream.

"Would you feel any prettier in this?" I asked, handing the garment to her.

"Oh, wow. Um, sure."

"I hope you don't get the wrong impression – I just-"

"That's fine," she replied with a reassuring hand on my forearm. "It's a sweet thought."

"There's not exactly, you know... um, a dressing room around..."

"Hmm... yeah, guess that would be a problem."

"I'll go to the other side of the hill while you change," I offered, kicking myself for not planning for something so obvious.

"Don't be ridiculous," she said with a chuckle. "Just close your eyes, or turn around. Or... both."

"You got it."

I turned around and closed my eyes while she changed into the dress. I knew it would fit her well, I just hoped she liked it and felt comfortable enough. I couldn't help noting the soft thumping of her jeans as they hit the ground, followed by the flop of her sweatshirt and the gliding sound of the cotton dress sliding over her perfect body. That was something I wanted to see. Someday. Hopefully soon...

"Okay, you can look now," she said after a moment. I turned and checked things out, as she did a few little model poses and turns. Her body language still conveyed a hint of self-consciousness.

"You look amazing," I said, remarking at how similar she looked to my dreams.

"Thanks. It's a pretty dress."

"Lucy made if for you by hand. London helped."

"Aww... that's really sweet. You'll have to tell them 'thanks' for me."

"Maybe you should tell them yourself," I said with a playfully lifted eyebrow.

"Oh, yeah, that's right! Man, I can't believe... _this_ is really happening. This is easily the best day of my entire life."

"Really? Well, it's only half-past eight – we're just getting started. Would you care for a little boat ride?"

"Sure," she said with a delightfully-surprised head tilt.

I took her hand, and led her over to a simple wooden rowboat that I had tethered to the shore. We got in and rowed out to the middle of the mountain lake beside us, rocking gently in the clear, cold water as we took in the view. Green mountains formed a nearby border on three sides of us, with a gradually-sloped meadow on the fourth side, full of various grasses and flowers, all swaying lazily in the breeze. The sky was much clearer than it had been in my dream about this place, but a few pillowy clouds still dotted the blue canopy above us, breaking up an otherwise perfect sapphire sky. Plentiful sunshine flooded everything in sight, bringing out the full vibrancy of every color, the clear, crisp contrast of every line and shape. Everything fell into place like it was meant to be – it was as close to perfection as the real world could get.

After a few moments of enjoying the scenery, Coraline started the conversation back up.

"Okay, I have a question for you, and you have to tell the truth," she said with a slightly uncomfortable smile.

"Alright..."

"When the whole thing in Malmedy went down, and we were separated, did you ever... um... did you ever think about... y'know, finding somebody else?"

"Um..."

''Cause that's okay – if you did," she blurted. "Really. It's not going to affect me either way. I'm just curious."

"Why? Did you?"

"I asked you first."

"No."

"No, what?" She asked, a little confused by the brevity of my answer.

"No, I didn't look for somebody else."

"I didn't ask if you _looked for_ somebody, only if you _thought about_ it."

"I did think about it at first, especially... uh... when I believed you to be indifferent toward me. I never got past your face, though. I couldn't see anyone else. Ever. I wanted to. I mean, I thought I'd never see you again. It was too late for me, though. You ruined me. It was you, or no one. It always has been."

She bit her lip, as a reluctant smile appeared on her face.

"Promise?"

"I think you'd know if I were lying."

"Good point."

"Okay, so what about you?" I countered, curious to hear her side of things. "Did you consider it?"

"Oh yeah. I 'considered' it for a really long time."

"Really?" I was almost hurt.

"I tried so hard not to care about you – especially at first, in Belgium. _So_ hard. And even after, when I was locked up in Volterra, and when we were writing... even when we met in New York. I tried."

"Why?" I asked, hoping to finally see behind the curtain with her. I had wanted to ask her that for a very long time.

"Honestly? It scared me."

"Scared you?"

"I haven't let a lot of people in – to see the real me, and in my life, every time I tried, it ended up hurting me really badly. I mean... _badly_. You scared me, because you made it feel so easy to open up, and I didn't want to ever open up again. It was just easier to live with a filter on everything and not have to feel so much. And when you kissed me the first time, by the tree, I felt for a minute what it was like to really let go, to let myself feel without censoring anything, and I loved it. But then, the fight happened, and we were apart, and I knew that opening up would just be too painful. Do you have any idea how much my heart was ripped in two when I couldn't see you?"

"Actually, I do."

"Well, then you know how miserable that feeling can be, how it can just crush you, until you're too depressed to even go on living. I couldn't do that. The only way I could go on was to keep everything at a distance – to stay calloused enough so it couldn't really hurt me, and for the most part, it worked. I mean, I could do things day to day, and I was half-alive. I have to make a confession to you, though, and I hope you can forgive me..."

"Of course..."

"I knew it was hard for you – me keeping a distance like that. I even knew... I knew it was _hurting_ you. I didn't want to believe it, and I didn't let myself think about it, but in the back of my mind, I knew. I was selfish. I did what I had to do to keep my sanity, but I threw you under the bus in the process."

She took my hands, and looked directly into my eyes, her face full of sincere remorse.

"Grant, I am so sorry for hurting you. It was selfish of me, and weak, and I-"

"Shh," I interrupted, placing a finger in front of her mouth before cupping her cheek in my hand. "Don't apologize. You did what you had to do to get by. We both did."

"I need to apologize."

"Then I forgive you. I'm the one who owes you an apology, though. I pushed you, sometimes much harder than I should have. I should have been more patient, more understanding, and I'm sorry for that."

"I think you were patient enough. I mean, you made it through fifty years."

"Forty-eight, technically," I joked, lightening the mood. "But who's counting?"

"Not us. At least, not anymore. God, you know how good that feels? I can't believe I'm really free. Are you sure we're safe?"

"Safer now than we've ever been. I promise."

"And I get to come live with you and the 'family' in England?"

"Absolutely. That is, if you want to..."

"Are you kidding? I've been dying to be with you for the last fifty years. Or, well, forty-eight. Whatever. For longer than anyone should have to be dying for anything."

Her words warmed my heart. Even though I knew she cared, it still meant a lot to hear it, especially with how sparing she had been with words of affection for the majority of our relationship.

"Well, I've been dying to see your beautiful face for thirteen years," I said in response. "That's an awfully long time, too."

"Even if it's dirty with messed up hair?"

"Even then."

"You know what else I've been dying to do?" She asked with a raised eyebrow and devious grin.

"What?"

"This," she said simply, as she pulled me to her and initiated a long, passionate kiss.

"Hmmm, I've missed that, too," I said after a brief lull, before returning to intense lip contact. It was divine.

We kissed for a while there in the boat, before taking a break to look at each other, still reclining in each other's arms.

"I really love kissing you," I said softly, as we lay there amidst the glistening water.

"Yeah? Well, I guess I don't mind it, either," she replied playfully.

"I love talking, too," I continued. "I can talk to you more easily than anyone I've ever known. It's like when I'm around you, I can be more like myself than when I'm with anyone else, even the family. You just get me. You compliment me perfectly."

"I'm glad you think so," she said. "I like it, too."

"I love_ not_ talking, too, you know. Just being next to you, just being in the same room... it's like I'm only half-alive when I'm not with you, like you radiate happiness, and the closer we are, the more I feel. And when we touch, when we kiss... it's like a symphony of lights, like a perfect story being told, like we were created for the very purpose of being together."

She didn't respond this time, she just listened. I think she knew where this was going, and for once, she wasn't resisting it.

"Coraline, I love everything about you. The good, the bad, and everything in between. You are the only one that has ever held my heart, and no one else ever could. You are the most beautiful person I've ever known, and I simply cannot live without you. You are everything to me. I love you."

I reached into my pocket and pulled out an old velvet case, rough and weathered with age. The little case had been through a lot, just as our relationship had been, but just like the case, our love had survived the journey. And just like the case, there was still something priceless and beautiful inside, something time and trouble could never tarnish.

I opened the case, looked into her eyes, and asked the question that should have been asked a very long time ago.

"Coraline Matilda Gray, will you ma-"

"Yes!" She interrupted. For once, I didn't mind being cut off. "Yes – a thousand times, yes!" She pulled in to kiss me again, after which, we kept our heads close together, foreheads touching.

"I'm glad you said yes," I half-whispered, as her smile reflected mine.

"Are you kidding? Of course I'd say yes. I've spent fifty years saying 'no' to you. 'Yes' feels pretty good for a change."

"So, you don't mind being old-fashioned and actually becoming my wife? I know it's not exactly the 'in' thing in the vampire world."

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, we're both kinda weirdos when it comes to the vampire world, so just add it to the list."

It did my heart good to have her accept my proposal so easily. We had talked on several occasions about marriage as an abstract concept, and she seemed to have a generally negative view of it, since her own parents' marriage had ended so badly. Whether she really wanted it, or she just did it to appease me, she said yes, and that was the most important thing.

"Oh – I guess I should try this on, huh?" She said, pulling away slightly and taking the jewelry box from my hand. "It looks like it should fit."

"I'm sure it will, unless your finger has grown in the last thirteen years."

"Wait – is this the same ring?" she asked with a playfully surprised expression.

"What same ring?" We had never talked about the almost-proposal in New York.

"The one you threw off the bridge in New York. It is, isn't it? I can't believe it..."

"You knew about that?" I asked, a little ashamed.

"Yeah, Harriet told me. She heard it through the grapevine."

"That wasn't exactly one of the shining moments of my life..."

"I didn't make it easy on you, either. So... you seriously went back for it?"

"Harvey and I spent four hours scouring the bottom of the river the day after you left. The case had drifted downstream a ways. It had more buoyancy than I expected."

"Well... the case is a little rough, but the ring is no worse for wear." She slipped it easily onto her finger. A perfect fit. As nice as it was, the clear jewel looked dull and underwhelming next to her glistening finger.

"So... do you like it?" I asked, unintentionally putting her on the spot.

"Uh, yeah! It's huge," She said with an 'of course, are you kidding?' look. "And clear, too. You did a great job, Grant. It's beautiful."

"I'm glad you like it."

"I'm glad you like _me_," she replied, with a sweet, half-playing, half-serious smile.

"Oh, Coraline... I'm so far beyond liking you," I said, placing my right hand up to her left, and interlocking our fingers. The presence of her ring there felt so good, it made me warm and mushy and giddy at the same time. "I can't wait to make you happy for the rest of eternity."

"Really?" She said, with a playfully devious grin.

"Uh-huh."

"Well, I've got something for you to start with, then."

"Name it, and it's yours."

She put her finger lightly on my lips.

"_This_ can kiss _these_," she said, touching her lips.

I obliged her.

After a moment, she pulled away.

"Job number two," she continued. "They can kiss here, too."

She touched the side of her neck, just under her chin. I was happy to follow her orders. After a moment, she touched the other side of her neck.

"They can kiss here too... and anywhere else they might happen to get carried away to."

"Whatever makes you happy," I said, playing along as I followed her directions. The narrow straps of her dress left a lot of landscape to explore, and I covered it all, kissing her diamond skin sweetly as we swayed in the water. By the time I returned to her mouth, our bodies were intertwined, desperate to be even closer. It was like we were catching up on all the physical affection we'd been missing out on for the last 13 years – soft, sweet, but intense. There's a natural progression to those sorts of things, and I knew, given the situation, it was leading to something substantial. Fortunately, I thought ahead.

I slowly pulled back, forcing a lull in the action for a moment so I could speak again.

"I'd forgotten just how good a kisser you are," I said, looking into her eyes, which held a barely-detectable hint of frustration at the pause.

"Thanks. You know... I'm pretty good at other things, too," she hinted, caressing my waist. "Of course, I understand the rules... if you still feel like you need to keep them."

"Well... I do," I said, smiling with drawn-in brows. "However..."

Her face lit up more than it should have at the mention of a 'however.' I chuckled a bit.

"What?" She asked innocently.

"...However," I continued, "I did have something of a compromise in mind, if you're interested."

"Okay..."

"About fifty miles southeast from here in a village named Ida, there's a small country chapel. I've spoken with the minister there, and he's agreed to marry us – today – if that's something you'd even be remotely interested in. I know it's rather abrupt, and I know you're not particularly fond of marriage, per se, but..."

"I would love to," she said politely, her eyes glistening with giddy excitement. "When do you want to go?"

"How about now?" I asked, uncertain.

"We can go now," She replied, as moved her face back to withing millimeters of mine. "But you're gonna need to kiss me at least three or four more times first."

"Deal."

After another few minutes of tender kissing, I rowed the boat to shore, and we headed off to the chapel. I was mildly concerned that such a lengthy excursion would kill the mood between us, but the journey to Ida was a delight. The scenery was jaw-dropping, the weather was perfect, and the company was priceless. We ran like a couple of children through the mountain passes, barefoot and hand in hand, not a care in the world. It was blissful.

We arrived at the simple, stone chapel around 3pm, and the minister was waiting there for us. Coraline spent a few minutes "freshening up" in the small bathroom, while I went over the details and payment with the man who would be officiating our avante-garde wedding. My beautiful bride emerged from the bathroom a few moments later, as breathtaking as ever, and we walked together to the front of the empty chapel. The minister glanced around the room, raising one eyebrow slightly.

"Is... this it, then?" He asked hesitantly.

"It's just us," I replied, squeezing Coraline's hand.

"Well... alright, then," the middle-aged man said, smiling warmly. "Why don't we get started. Did you prepare any vows?"

Coraline and I exchanged comical glances at each other, chuckling slightly.

"We'll just speak whatever comes to our minds," I said, keeping a giggle suppressed. The minister raised his eyebrows slightly, though his smile remained unchanged.

"Very well. Would you like to go first, Grant?"

"Sure," I replied, pulling the wedding bands out of my pocket and slipping Coraline's onto her finger along with the engagement ring.

"Coraline Matilda Gray, I promise to love you, support you, protect and provide for you for as long as I live. I will be your listening ear, I'll hold you when you're sad, and laugh with you when you're happy. I'll be fully yours and only yours, no matter what comes, putting your first in my life. I promise to love you forever, until the very end of the world."

Her eyes sparkled like diamonds as I gazed into them, unblinking. It was hard to believe this was really happening – I had to keep telling myself it wasn't a dream.

"Very endearing, Grant," the minister said, turning to my bride. "Alright, then. Coraline..."

"Whatever comes to your mind?" she asked in sarcastic humor. "You totally had that prepared."

"Well, I may have rolled a few thoughts around in my head from time to time," I admitted with a guilty smile.

"Great. How am I supposed to match that? Okay, give me a minute."

"Take all the time you need," the minister replied.

She paused for a moment, looking down and collecting her thoughts before looking me in the eyes and making her vow.

"Grant Alfred Willoughby... you are the piece of my heart that's been missing my whole life. I love you as much as I could possibly love anyone or anything in the world. I promise to be faithful to you, and to support you in whatever you do... I'll go with you wherever life takes us. We're a team now. ...I will never... stop getting to know you. I'll never stop wanting to learn more about what makes you you. I love you today and forever."

She squeezed my hands tightly. My body filled with an indescribable warmth. She meant every word. She was mine forever.

"Grant," the minister said, interrupting my thoughts. "Do you take this woman to be your lawfully-wedded wife, forsaking all others, as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," I said softly, still lost in her eyes.

"And Coraline," the minister continued, "do you take this man to be your lawfully-wedded husband, forsaking all others, as long as you both shall live?"

"I totally do," she said, smiling from ear to ear.

"Well... I suppose that covers it," the minister said after a few seconds. "Marriage is a holy covenant before God. I charge you to take seriously these vows you have made to each other, for God himself will hold you accountable for them. Now, in light of your expressed desire to be married to each other, and the vows you have made before God and... well, one witness... I hereby declare you to be husband and wife. Grant, you may now kiss your bride, if you feel so inclined."

"I certainly do," I replied, dipping her and initiating a long, passionate kiss.

We thanked the kind minister and walked down the aisle together, she in her sundress and I in a linen shirt and trousers. It was a very "hippie-movement" moment, but it was ours, and it was real. After 48 years of waiting, we were finally married.

And it felt good.

The patchy cloud cover that shielded us when we arrived at the chapel was allowing a dangerous amount of sunlight when we left, so we darted away as soon as we reached the front door, giggling as we streaked through the churchyard and up the hill nearby, gleaming like comets. We stopped once we were out of sight, and had a good laugh about it.

"So, Misses Willoughby," I asked with one playfully-raised eyebrow, "the day is still young – what would you like to do now?"

"Hmm...," she paused, moving closer until her body was touching mine. "I seem to remember being involved in a very important matter before we left for our little day-trip." She slid her hands around my waist, grasping and tugging at my shirt with slow intensity.

"I see. Well, we mustn't delay the matter any further, then."

"No, we mustn't. So, did you have a place in mind for... conducting important matters?" She asked, pulling away a little to look at me. "Maybe back at our little hidden lake?"

"Hmm... there aren't any buildings in the area..."

"I noticed."

"There is a nice, soft field nearby, though..."

"Wow. Very... earthy," she said, a little surprised.

"Um – we could always think of something else," I stammered. "I'm sure we could-"

"It's fine," she interrupted. "I can do earthy." She released me and started walking away.

"Hey – where are you going?"

"To the field," she replied with a flirty smirk, letting one of the straps of her dress slip off her shoulder. "We'd better hurry, this thing just keeps wanting to come off."

"Is that so?" I said, as I took a few steps toward her.

"Uh-huh. It's got a mind of its own."

"Well, I may just have to help it out once we get there."

"You may not have the chance," she said, as the strap slid all the way down her arm. She took off in a sprint. I followed as fast as I could run.

She got to the field first, walking slowly and looking over her shoulder with a "come and get me" expression, as the other strap slid off her shoulder. I followed her through the waving grass, about ten yards behind, until finally, she stopped and turned around.

"This looks like a good place to me," she said, playful, yet somehow intense.

"Perfect as can be," I replied, slowly moving closer.

She reached behind her and unzipped the back of her dress, which slid gracefully off her body like water, leaving absolutely nothing underneath.

_Wow. _

I walked toward her slowly, undoing garments as I went, while my eyes stayed fixed on her perfect, sparkling body. She stood there motionless, like a glistening marble statue, exquisitely sculpted, every detail perfectly matched to the next, like the notes of a masterpiece symphony. Beautiful doesn't even begin to describe it. Her hands reached out to meet me as I approached her, gently coaxing the remainder of my clothing off as my hands tenderly skimmed the surface of her skin, leaving no area unloved with my touch.

Total freedom. At last. It was a beautiful thing.

We exercised that freedom in a magical, effortless series of motions, graceful and passionate, until we had expressed ourselves fully. I laid there next to her in the field afterward, delightfully free amid the soft grass and bright flowers that swayed all around us in the breeze, swirling the landscape like an impressionist painting. I wasn't overly concerned with the landscape, though. My eyes were fixed on Coraline's incomparable smiling face, which still shimmered with the waning beams of orange sunlight that snuck through the arms of the 3-foot-tall greenery around her.

"Grant," she said softly. "I love you."

I had been waiting for fifty years to hear those words. They swarmed my heart with the sweetest, most intense happiness imaginable. She loved me. We were finally free to say it.

"And I love you, my dear. So very much."

"So very much," she replied, with a hint of a smile in her eyes. "So very much."


	21. Chapter 20

_20. FAMILY_

"Okay, we're almost there," I said to my new wife, as we turned the car off of the main street and onto our long, winding driveway. It was almost time for the big first meeting. I was getting nervous. "Now remember, she's a very sweet, sensitive girl, so do your best to be accepting."

"Grant, if everything you say about her is true, there's no way I won't adore her."

"Just... be mindful of your expressions. She's very special. Unique..."

"Yes, I know. You've told me a thousand times. Relax. It'll be fine."

"Okay, you're right. I'm sure she'll love you, I just..."

"Grant – chill."

"Right. Chilling."

I pulled my black '73 Corvette up in front of the tall, columned front porch of our home in Gloucester, listening closely for the scurrying of feet on the other side of the door. They heard us coming down the driveway.

_Okay. Here goes..._

I got out, walked around and opened Coraline's door for her, walking with her to the front door.

"Alright – close your eyes..." I started, but it was too late. As soon as we were close, the door opened from the inside. Harvey and Lucy stood close together, somewhat warily, with London's little 4'8'' frame in front. I had forgotten up until that point that London's warm blood and beating heart might present a powerful temptation to Coraline (hence the apprehensive looks from my brother and sister-in-law).

"Oh – well, hello there," Coraline said, extending her hand as she looked over London's face. I watched anxiously, taking note of the changing expression in Coraline's face, as she saw my daughter for the first time.

London bypassed the handshake, and reached out to give Coraline a hug. Harvey's eyes grew wide with caution, but there was nothing to be afraid of. Coraline reached down, embracing her delicately – and a bit awkwardly.

"It's nice to finally meet you in person, Aunt Coraline," London said sweetly as she stepped back to her original place. "My dad has told me so much about you."

"It's... very nice to meet you, too, London," Coraline said, making an effort to smooth over her presentation. I could see the signs in her expression, though. The wheels were turning in her head.

"Are you really coming to live with us?"

"Yes, I am."

"Good. We could use another girl in the house."

"How are you, Coraline?" Lucy asked next, also reaching over to give Coraline a hug.

"I'm very well, thank you," she replied, still preoccupied with London. "It's so nice to be here."

"I cleaned the rats out of the cellar for you," Harvey said, joking, but keeping a straight face. "It's all yours."

"Oh. Thanks, so much for the hospitality, Harvey."

"My pleasure. We wanted you to feel right at home."

"Well, what're we standing in the doorway for?" Lucy asked, opening the door a little wider. "Let me show you around. That is, if I can steal you away from your hubby."

"Sure. I'd love to see the house," Coraline replied politely. This was all a little strange for her. It would probably take a few weeks for her to feel at home with the family. London didn't have that problem.

"So, what do you think?" I asked her, once Lucy and Coraline were out of the room.

"She's very pretty," London replied with an excited smile. "And she seems like she's really nice."

"You sure you won't mind sharing me with her?"

"Nah. There's plenty of you to go around," she said, hugging my waist.

"I guess I'll take that as a compliment," I replied, rustling her hair playfully. "Did you clean up your room?"

"Yep. It's ready for inspection."

"Good. Wouldn't want Coraline thinking we're a bunch of slobs around here."

She went quiet for a moment before speaking again.

"Hey dad?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"I'm really happy for you."

"Thanks, honey." I squeezed her tightly. Finally, my family was complete.

Once Lucy was finished with the extensive tour of the house, Coraline and I went out to the garden so we could speak privately.

"So, I'm sure you have questions..." I began, speaking of London.

"She's not human."

"No."

"So, what... I mean, uh, that sounds kinda bad..."

"Her mother was a human. Her father was a vampire."

"No... seriously?"

"As far as we can tell, yes."

"Is that even possible?"

"Apparently it is."

"Wow. Do you know who the father is?"

"No. I'm afraid to ask or look."

"Yeah, the casual observer would totally mistake her for an immortal child."

"Exactly. Now you understand our secrecy."

"So, how old is she again?"

"Yes, about that... it's a little complicated. Technically, she's a little over five years old, but physically, she's about the size and maturity of an eleven-year-old girl. And her intelligence is off the charts. College-graduate level, at least."

"Wow. So if she's growing that fast..."

"There's no way of knowing for sure. If she continues to grow at this pace, she'll be an elderly woman in thirty years. I don't think that'll be the case, though. Her cells show no sign of wear or decay whatsoever. I can't imagine her body just breaking down due to age."

"But you could end up with a daughter older than you."

"Well... theoretically, yes."

"Nice. Oh, and how is it that you're 'dad,' and I'm 'Aunt Coraline?'"

"The whole naming process has been exceedingly complex around here since London learned the truth about herself."

"So she knows? About being adopted, and the half-breed thing?"

"Yes. She's at peace with it, as much as could be expected. I figured, once you two got to know each other a little better, you might be able to talk to her about it, since..."

"Since I can relate to being an orphan. Sure. I'd be happy to."

"I think she really likes you."

"Good. She seems like a really sweet girl. And she's beautiful."

"I know. You'll love her."

"I'm sure I will. I just need time to adjust to everything."

Coraline got settled into the house, and in no time, she was feeling quite at home. Lucy had an extensive wardrobe prepared for her in her own walk-in closet, Harvey taught her to ride a motorcycle, and London gave her the grand tour of the town. I had taken two weeks off from teaching, so I had all day long to spend with her, talking, kissing, and... keeping busy with other pleasant things. It was all like a wonderful dream.

I had been hopeful that London and Coraline would get along, but the friendship they developed over their first summer together far surpassed my highest expectations. Coraline somehow managed to come across less as a parental figure, and more like the "cool" older sister, which didn't help with discipline, but did help a lot with London's social development. The two of them did all sorts of things together – playing music, braiding hair, even decorating the 4-foot-tall Barbie mansion in her room. Beyond activities, though, their friendship was a good emotional outlet. London was willing to open up to Coraline about many subjects that she was unwilling to share with Harvey, Lucy or me. 'Aunt Coraline' was something of an intermediary between me and London on all the touchy subjects, which is why they both came into the study together one August afternoon to present their case.

"Hey Grant, London has a question for you," Coraline said, standing behind London, hands on her shoulders. I knew I was about to be suckered into something I didn't want to do, but I went along with it. After all, how could I tell both the women in my life no?

"Okay," I said, putting down my paperwork. "What is it, darling?"

"Um... you know how you made those scissors to cut my hair," London asked, somewhat nervously.

"Yes..."

"Well, I was wondering, do you think... um, you could make something else like those?"

"Sure. Like what?"

"I dunno... maybe, like, a razor?"

"A razor? What on earth would you want that for?"

"For, um... I dunno... maybe shaving my legs, or something," she said awkwardly, bending her head down, but looking up at me hopefully.

"Why would you want to do that?"

Coraline spoke up for her. "Tabitha Greene started shaving her legs this summer, and Ashley Conour has been shaving for longer than that."

"So..."

"So, they're two of the most popular girls in school. If they're doing it, everyone else will be. You wouldn't want London to be the only one left out, would you?"

"Well, my dear, it's not as simple as that. London, honey, I think your legs are just fine the way they are. You look beautiful."

"Yeah, but I don't want to be the odd one out," she contested. "Please? Mom and Aunt Coraline have perfect legs with no hair..."

"Yes, and they had to pluck every one of them out, one at a time."

"I would totally do that, but I think they'll grow back," she said with creased eyebrows.

"That's exactly my point, London. They'll just keep growing back."

"Then I'll keep shaving them. Please, dad? I don't ask for a lot. Just this one thing. Please..."

"Alright, alright. Let me get back to the lab, and I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you," she said, squeezing me so tightly in a hug that it nearly hurt. "You are the best dad ever!"

Coraline smiled as London ran off, most likely to tell her friends.

"Can you actually do that?" she asked.

"I don't know. Building a pair of scissors is one thing, but a razor? It would have to be a stronger substance. Otherwise, I'd have to quit my job just to make blades all the time."

"Well, if anybody can do it, you can," she said, walking over and sitting across my lap. "You're a good man, Grant Willoughby."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, _Misses _Willoughby," I replied.

"Mmm... I like the way that sounds. Of course, you know what you have to do when you call me that, right?" she said with a playfully raised eyebrow.

"Why do you think I said it?" I replied, as I lifted her up and carried her back to our room.

Razor development could wait an hour.

Or two.

As soon as I got back to my lab to resume my studies on carbon structures, I remembered how much of a science nerd I really was. I wasn't thrilled about the idea of my little girl growing up and wanting to shave her legs, but I was

energized by the challenge of building a suitable razor. I knew a carbon nanotube wouldn't be strong enough to work for my new project, so I went back to the drawing board. I began by studying the molecular structure of a strand of London's hair, as well as a strand of my own.

The basic structure of my hair, as well as virtually every other element of my vampire body, was put together in a tetrahedral arrangement, much like the carbon structure of diamonds. That explained a vampire's tremendous tensile strength. London's cells, on the other hand, were formed in a variety of different arrangements. Her hair, which was one of the weaker structures on her body, was very similar to graphite – layers and layers of paper-like carbon sheets, arranged in a grid. I had to develop something much stronger if I wanted a razor that would cut several hundred hairs without becoming dull, while being small enough and sharp enough to do the job easily.

I spent another solid week in research, but came up empty-handed this time. My own nanotube structure was still the strongest known to man, and there was no theoretical way to make it any stronger than it already was. The only thing in the known universe that could effectively cut her hair would be vampire teeth, and as much as I loved her, I wasn't about to pull mine out to make a razor for her. And then the obvious hit me.

I had the blueprint for the perfect cutting device in my own mouth. I sat in the university library all night, studying my own teeth in exhaustive detail and taking mental notes. It was one of those situations where you have a theoretical breakthrough, and everything falls easily into place, as if the answer had been staring you in the face all along. For all the mysticism surrounding vampires, we were still made up of the same essential ingredients as the world around us – namely, carbon – which meant that if I followed the arrangement of atoms exactly, I should be able to reproduce the same structures artificially.

After my library study session, I sought and purchased a small stockpile of coal to work with, and began trying to construct a vampire-esque carbon structure using my mind. The initial experiments were quite frustrating – the atoms were very reluctant to shape themselves how I wanted, and I ended up throwing most of the mutant coal bits out the window. Eventually, though, I powered through the resistance, and found a sort of telekinetic formula for rearranging carbon atoms, much like an algorithm for solving a Rubik's Cube.

The full process took me 17 hours of intense concentration and periods of mental relaxation (I went through 5 sets of Gameboy batteries), but I came out the other side with a 2½-inch blade that was structurally indiscernible from vampire teeth. I mounted it to a carbon nanotube casing and handle, and packaged the cutting device in a felt-lined, polished-walnut case. London was thrilled to see her wish granted in such short order, and after a little test-run with her aunt's instructions, she was even happier with the results. I was happy, too, but with a bittersweet aftertaste. My little girl was growing up, much faster than I wanted.

The school year started for London, shaved legs and all, and she didn't waste any time getting involved. Before she was three weeks into the fall semester, I had a permission slip in my hands, asking me to allow my only daughter to go on a two-week choir tour through eastern Europe with a bunch of middle school girls – and boys. Needless to say, I wasn't overly thrilled with the idea, but, as usual, Coraline pleaded London's case for her, and I caved in. We decided to allow the trip with the condition that she call to check in at least once every other day. I knew it was a little excessive, but I couldn't help worrying about her well-being out on her own.

I was driving home from an evening lecture one night during the first week of London's tour, when the strangest thing happened to me. All of a sudden, my attention became divided, as my mind struggled to keep a handle on two completely separate sets of external stimuli. It was like I was in two places at once – two sights, two sounds, both layered over each other, like a set of overhead transparency diagrams. In my secondary vision, I saw what looked like the inside of a large bus – tacky-colored high back fabric seats, tinted windows, and a high ceiling. And then, as suddenly as it came, the sight was gone, replaced by darkness. I could still hear the corresponding sounds, though. The hum of nearby road traffic. A fly, or other similar insect buzzing around a few feet away. And in the foreground, intermittent sobs and sniffles. I started to pull the car over to the side of the road, but the vision stopped as abruptly as it started. Thoroughly confused, I continued on my hour-long commute, making it about three miles before the vision interrupted my driving again. I pulled over completely this time, focusing on the other set of senses. The image of the bus swung and darted around, as if it were being controlled by someone else's eyes, someone who was looking for something. I still heard the sobs, along with the distant sound of someone speaking polish. And then I saw an unmistakable figure reflected on the bus window.

"London?" I said aloud, more confused than ever. What I heard next was even stranger.

"Dad?" I heard her say, as clearly as if she were sitting right next to me. I quickly realized that the sound of her voice was coming from my second set of senses.

"Is that... you?" I asked, trying to make sense of things. "What's happening?"

"I don't... I don't know," she said, sounding like there were still tears in her eyes. "I was sitting here by myself, and then all of a sudden, I saw the inside of your car... like I was inside it, or something, but at the same time as I was seeing things here. Did you..."

"I saw the same thing," I said, astounded. "Only, I saw a glimpse of a tour bus-"

"Oh my gosh! That's where I am right now." She held her hand out in front of her, wiggling her fingers. "Can you see that?" she asked.

"Yes. You just wiggled your fingers."

"_Oooooo_kay. This is really weird," she said. Then everything in the other vision went dark again.

"Hey – what happened? Everything in my other, uh... vision just went dark."

"What – seriously? I just closed my eyes..."

"I think we're somehow seeing and hearing things through each-other's consciousness."

"But... that's not possible."

"London, you of all people should know, lots of impossible things are possible." I got excited as I started to process the information. This was one amazing discovery. "Okay, think with me a moment. How did this start? Do you know what you were doing to cause this? Or, maybe I caused it..."

"I dunno, like I said, I was just sitting here in the bus by myself..."

She trailed off, sounding emotional. I really wanted more information about what in the world was happening with this connection, but I couldn't shake the concern I had for whatever seemed to be causing London emotional pain. I shifted momentarily out of scientist mode and into parent mode.

"Have you... been crying?"

"No," she said, choking back another sob.

"London..."

"It's fine, I promise. I'm fine."

"Something's going on..."

"It's just the girls. Being mean, like always. It's no big deal, though. I'm just fine."

"Are you sure? Sitting in a bus all by yourself doesn't seem fine."

"... no," she said, starting to cry again. "I'm not really fine. I'm horrible. Tiffany called me a freak, and I got upset, so I laid down in the bed and started to cry, but I was so upset I didn't realize that I laid down in Ashley's bed, and she got real upset and blew it out of proportion, and so I just left the room for a minute to get some fresh air, and then when I came back, they locked me out, and pretended like they were asleep, but I could hear them laughing at me, so I snuck onto the bus, 'cause at least there's no one laughing at me in here. I miss you so much. I want to come home. I was just thinking about how much I wish you were here, and then, all of a sudden, you sort-of are."

"I'm very sorry, London," I said, angrier than I let on. "What city are you in right now? I'll hop on the plane and be over there to pick you up in five hours."

"No, that's okay. You don't need to do that. I'll be fine. I just... really miss you."

"I miss you too, sweetheart. I'm really glad we're able to have this, er... conversation, though."

"I really am a freak, aren't I? I'm pretty sure I made this weird thing happen."

"This 'thing,' whatever it is, is quite remarkable. It's not weird. It's extraordinary."

"Do you think this is, like, a special ability, or something? Like, how you can move stuff with your mind, or how Aunt Coraline can read people's motives?"

"I absolutely think it is, yes. And quite a profound gift, at that. London, you're so very special. Remember, the other girls just don't understand you-"

"And people are afraid of what they don't understand," she interrupted, rolling her eyes. Yes, I could tell. "I know, I know. I just wish they didn't have to be so mean all the time."

"It's just human nature, honey. It never goes away. Trust me. It's an unfortunate fact of life."

The two of us talked for the next hour and a half, I in my car seat and she in hers. By the end of the time, I could tell she was in better spirits. I could also tell it was getting late. During a long segment of my own rambling, the sights in my secondary vision slowly got dim, and then completely dark.

"London? Are you still there?" I asked.

The lights suddenly came back on in a jolt. She was falling asleep.

"Sorry! I guess I dozed off for a second. I'm just really tired. I think, if you don't mind... I'm gonna try and go back into the room."

"Of course I don't mind – you need your sleep."

"I hope they let me in this time. They've had enough fun..."

"Do you still remember how to pick a lock, like I showed you?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"You could always try getting in that way. And if that doesn't work, just kick it down. That'll teach those girls a lesson. Don't worry, I'll pay for it."

She chuckled. "You're so devious, dad."

"What do you expect? I'm a vampire."

"Good point. So... um... I'm not exactly sure how to shut this off..."

"It started while you were thinking about me, right?"

"I think."

"So, try thinking about something else. Think about where you'll be singing tomorrow, or your favorite place that you've been so far. Or – better yet – think of how shocked those girls would be if you ripped that hotel door off of its frame with your bare hands and threw it through the wall."

She giggled. "Yeah, that would be prett-"

And I was back to just myself and the car.

"Remarkable!" I said aloud as I sat in the car, processing what had just happened. _So she_ is_ a "special," after all_. I had been wondering for years whether any special ability would manifest itself in my little girl. Apparently, it just had to develop like everything else in her life.

London contacted me two other times during her trip, once intentionally, and once inadvertently (good thing she wasn't getting dressed at the time). She was also able to contact Lucy for a short while. We were all astounded by her newfound ability, and all the more aware of how truly unique she was. Now more than ever, we were sure she needed to avoid the wrong kind of attention. Of course, as she grew older, the wrong attention was all she seemed to want.

In the summer of 1995, we moved to Coventry, where London skipped forward to the 11th grade. I don't know if it was the new friends, the high-school atmosphere, or just her newfound hormones, but somewhere in the mix, an attitude appeared. Gone was the sweet, innocent, nine-year-old London we all adored, replaced instead by 16-year-old, too-cool-for-parents London, who was much less interested in time with 'dad' than time with boys. We still loved her, of course, but she tried our patience on a daily basis.

By the time she received her diploma, London's growth rate had begun to slow down noticeably, until she reached the point where she stopped altogether, becoming frozen in time with the body of a 19-year-old young woman. Though we were all as proud as could be of her accomplishments, we urged her to continue her education. With her intelligence and my inside track with the academic world, the sky was the limit for her. I even secured a place for her at Oxford, making sure she could get in with all the best professors. By that point in her life, though, London was less interested in _learning_ and more interested in _doing_. She declined the invitation to Oxford, and instead, spent her time opening another free clinic with Lucy, much like the one she was born in.

My own daughter choosing to forgo a world-class college education was a tough pill to swallow. I kept nudging her, and was at least able to convince her to take a few college courses through correspondence, which eased my mind a bit about her future. Ultimately, though, I had to turn her loose and let her do her own thing. She was, after all, a grown woman now, and a terrific one, at that. I knew I couldn't hold onto her forever, and I was alright with that, I just hoped that whatever direction her heart took her would lead to a long, happy, peaceful life. That's what she deserved. Unfortunately, though, as so often happens in life, she seemed doomed to repeat the tumultuous steps of her parents, both natural and adopted.


	22. Chapter 21

_21. CONNECTION_

To say that life was easy would have been an understatement. Life after the turn of the millennium was at an all-time high. The family and I bounced around from place to place across the globe until 2006, when we finally settled in Whistler, a sleepy ski resort town in the mountains near Vancouver. Whistler was the ideal home that we had all been searching for – a perfect blend of privacy and big-city accessibility. Lucy opened a branch office in Vancouver for Lucy May Clothing, and split time between that and a private medical practice in Whistler, both with London's assistance. Harvey served as a full-time firefighter in Whistler, and started yet another band, _King Valiant_, on the side. I taught at the University of British Columbia during the week, and tutored local high school students on the weekends. Coraline taught private music lessons and earned a spot as a principal violinist with the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra. Everyone was happy, everything was at peace, life was good.

Too good.

London came into my study one Saturday morning in early 2006, looking a little confused.

"Hey dad, can I get your opinion on something?" She asked, still rubbing the sleepiness out of her eyes.

"Sure, sweetheart. What's going on?"

"You know how I normally have really weird dreams that don't make any sense, right?"

"Right..."

"Well, lately, I keep having the same one over and over again. I mean, not the _exact _same dream, but always with the same character."

"Okay, what sort of dream is it?"

"There's a man – I can never really see his face, but it's like I recognize him somehow – and every time, he's looking for me, like I'm a lost puppy, or something."

I didn't like the sound of anyone looking for London. She should be relatively safe, now that she was full-grown, but I had grown so accustomed to keeping her a secret that it was hard to think any other way.

"In your dream, are you afraid of being found? Are you running away?"

"No, I'm not afraid, I want the man to find me. I try to tell him I'm here, but when I open my mouth to speak, nothing comes out."

"Well, London, you've spent your entire life trying not to be discovered by the wrong people. I'm sure it's just those feelings catching up with you."

"Yeah, but it doesn't feel like that sort of thing in the dream. The man doesn't want to hurt me. He wants to help."

"Dreams don't always make sense, sweetheart. I wouldn't worry about it too much. Maybe you just need to get to bed a little earlier – I've heard that every hour of sleep before midnight is worth two hours after."

"Yeah, maybe for humans."

"Good point."

"Okay, well, thanks for listening."

"You're very welcome."

I didn't give much thought to the topic of London's dreams again, until they came back to the forefront of our family life in a forceful way. I got a text message from Coraline one March morning as I was administering a chemistry examination at the University, asking me to come home at my earliest convenience. I called one of my student-teachers in to finish the exam, and drove back to Whistler like a madman. Coraline met me at the door when I arrived, her face uncertain and a little troubled.

"What happened? Is everything okay?" I asked.

"Come in," she said quietly, shutting the door behind us. Once we were inside, she continued, speaking very softly. "London connected with a stranger today. She had no idea who it was."

"What? Why?" I asked, more than a little surprised. Over the years, she had perfected her ability to "connect" her senses with someone else's. She used it all the time, getting her mother's opinion on a dress at the store, asking me to record a television show for her at home while she was in Vancouver, that sort of thing. She hardly ever used her phone, talking through her connections instead. She had never once connected with someone she didn't know, though.

"She didn't mean to," Coraline answered, pausing before she continued. "She says she didn't initiate it."

"What?"

"I know."

"How is that possible?"

"I don't know. Neither does she. She's pretty shaken up about it."

"Yes, well, so am I. Do you know how dangerous that could be – if this person is working with-"

"I know," she interrupted, motioning to me to speak more quietly. "There's no sense in scaring her any further, though. I'm going to take the day off and stay home with her, and if it happens again, she's going to close her eyes and try to see whatever she can on the other side, so we can figure out who it might be."

"Well, hopefully it was just some sort of accident," I said, trying to talk myself out of worrying excessively.

"Yeah, hopefully."

We monitored London closely for the next 36 hours, and there was nothing – no visions, no flashes, no dreams. We all thought this connection was a fluke, and went back to life as usual. And then it happened again, right in the middle of her work day with Lucy. And again two days later. And three days after that. The brief, uncontrolled connections became a regular occurrence by the end of March, coming about once every other day. Even with the increased frequency, though, we were no closer to explaining what was happening. The visions were blurry, like trying to see through murky water, and the person on the other end, whoever he or she was, never spoke. All we knew was that it was a security risk to us all if the visions ever became any clearer, which is exactly what happened over the summer.

By the middle of July, the visions were almost as clear as London's normal connections, and were accompanied by the same recurring dream with the man looking for her. In addition to the searching dream, she also began to see a recurring character in all her other dreams, a terrifying image she referred to as "the man with the yellow eyes," who always came out of nowhere and killed members of the family. That didn't exactly settle my nerves. Equally unsettling was the "revelation" she shared with me one evening.

"You know, I've been thinking about the visions, and I have a theory about who it is on the other side," she said, as we sat on the couch watching the evening news.

"Really?" I asked, with a glimmer of hope. "Who do you think it is?"

"Well, you know how I keep having the same dream about the man who's looking for me?"

"Yes..."

"Well, I think it's the same person. And, um... I know this sounds weird, but..." she paused, as if she were embarrassed to continue.

"But what?"

She sighed and brushed her hair back nervously. "I think it's my father. My _biological_ father. I think he's looking for me."

"...What makes you say that?" I asked, trying to keep my face and tone from exposing the concern that was brewing in my mind.

"Well, the man in the dreams, I've always felt like even though I don't recognize him, I know him somehow..."

"Okay..."

"And the dreams started at about the same time as the connections."

"True. But even if it is the same person, that doesn't mean it's your biological father. I'm fairly certain that even if your father is still out there somewhere, he has no idea you were ever born. How would he know to look for you?"

"I don't know. That's what Coraline said, too, but I still just feel like it's him. Plus, he's the only one who's ever started a connection with me. Maybe it's because he's like me – maybe he's talented like I am."

_Or maybe he's the man with the yellow eyes, here to kill your family. _I wanted to say it, but I didn't want to scare her unnecessarily.

"Regardless of who you think this person is, you do understand it's far too dangerous for you to contact him, right?" I asked, taking on my fatherly tone.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I can always hope, though."

"Just promise me you won't do or say anything that would lead him to us."

"I promise. Goodnight, real-dad," she said, hugging me before heading off to her bedroom. She was a good girl – I knew that. I also knew that she was fairly suggestible and a little too trusting. Her promise to be careful sounded genuine enough, but somehow, I didn't fully believe her, and it worried me.

Things had been uncomfortably tense in the house for most of the summer. I, for one, needed a break from worrying about London's visions, and that's just what I got the first of August. According to Harriet, all of Volterra was abuzz with news of the marriage of one Edward Cullen to, of all people, a human girl. As if that wasn't enough, I learned that the event was taking place in the small town of Forks, Washington, a mere six-hour drive from Whistler (or a 1½ flight for pilots such as myself with a private plane). I hadn't had any contact with the Cullens since London was born, so I obviously didn't receive a wedding invitation, but I wanted an excuse to get away from it all for a while. Besides that, the absence of a formal invitation had never stopped me from attending a wedding before, so I brought Coraline along, and we set out for Forks to peek in on the big event.

I had long considered Jasper Whitlock and Edward Cullen to be two of my best friends, and sacrificing contact with them for London's sake had been quite a difficult task. I missed their friendship dearly, but with the recent occurrence of London's unwanted visions, I wasn't too keen on running into anyone who might be asking questions. Coraline and I decided that it might be best to keep a low profile – bring a gift, watch from a distance, and possibly say a brief word to Edward before we left, if the opportunity presented itself. We also had to keep in mind that with Edward's popularity among the vampire elite, there was a chance that someone from Volterra might recognize us. We were supposed to be dead, after all.

We landed our plane in Seattle and drove to Forks, being careful to stifle our scents and keep a close watch out for any signs of vampires. It was a smaller town than we thought, the kind where everyone knew everyone else, the kind where "blending in" would be extraordinarily difficult, even for seasoned professionals like us. We nearly chickened out and went back home, but we were too curious about this human bride to leave without at least trying to see her – which wasn't an easy task, given the fact that we didn't know what she looked like, where she lived, or even her name.

Given the fact that Forks was such a small town, Coraline and I decided to try asking around to see if any of the locals happened to know where the wedding would be taking place. As it happened, we stumbled upon the jackpot on our first try. We stopped by a small outdoor-activities supply store and walked in, looking for a customer who might be willing to help us out. The store was relatively empty – just an elderly man inspecting an assortment of fishing poles, and a blond-haired young man, who seemed to be a sales associate.

"Hey there, guys," the blond-haired one addressed us casually, as he walked around the cluttered store display shelves to greet us. "I'm Mike. Can I help you find anything?"

I was no mind-reader, but I got the impression that young Mike found Coraline to be quite attractive. I fought the urge to reposition my body and "stake my claim" on her – attraction might help us get the information we needed.

"Actually, you can help us by giving us directions," Coraline answered with a smile, thinking the exact same thing I was. "We're not from around here."

The young man smiled back before abruptly scrunching his eyebrows and tilting his head. "Are you, um... friends of the Cullens?" he asked, nervously resuming his smile after he spoke.

"Uh, yes. Actually," I answered, equally nervous. _How did he guess? Is someone looking for us? Is it unsafe here? _"How did you know?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, but, you kinda look like their sort of crowd, if you know what I mean. N-not in a_ bad _way, of course..."

"Of course," Coraline replied assuringly. "So, then, are you a friend of Edward's?"

"Something like that," he said, his face souring ever-so-slightly. "Of course, who isn't, right?" He chuckled, trying to loosen up the mood. We joined in to help him feel more comfortable."So, uh, what can I help you find?" He asked, eyes fixed on Coraline's perfect face.

"Well, we were wondering if you could tell us where the wedding is going to be held," Coraline answered.

"It's um, at the Cullen's house," he replied, scratching the back of his head. "Didn't they tell you in the invitation?"

"Oh... well, yeah, they did," Coraline said, thinking on her feet, "but we can't find the invitation anywhere. Edward was supposed to give us directions when we got here, but he's not answering his phone."

"Well, no big surprise there," he said with a mild hint of sarcasm. I got the impression that he didn't like Edward all that much. "Cullen never answers. Did you try calling Bella?"

"Um, no," Coraline answered. "We don't have her number."

_Good, good. Keep it up, Coraline._

"Oh, yeah, of course," Mike said. "Well, I can give it to you, if you want."

"That would be fantastic," she replied with a smile. He pulled out his phone and started scrolling through his contact list. "So, I guess you're friends with Bella, too," she continued, fishing for information. We both assumed "Bella" was the bride, but we didn't know for sure.

"Yeah, Bella and I go way back," he said, his face lightening as he spoke of her. "She used to work here. See?" He pointed over his shoulder to an employee-of-the-month wall. It didn't look like it had been updated in a while. The girl in the picture he pointed out looked young – younger than London. But then, Edward was young, too, so it fit.

"Okay, here we go," he said after a moment. "You ready?"

Coraline pulled out her phone, as if she needed to enter it in to remember it. "Go ahead."

"Three-six-oh, four-nine-five, eight-one, eight-five."

"Great. Thank you so much. We'll give her a call and see if she can give us directions."

"Cool," he replied. "And if you can't get through to her, let me know, and I'll try to draw you a map, or something, 'cause the Cullens live way out there, and I don't think their address is listed in the phone book."

"Thank you very much, Mike," I said, shaking his hand. "You've been very helpful." _More than you know._

We turned and walked back out to the rental car, climbing in without a word. I could almost feel Mike's eyes watching us (actually, watching Coraline) all the way out, and as petty as it seems, it felt good to have her out of his sight and all to myself.

"So... what exactly is your plan?" she asked, as I pulled the car out and turned back onto the street.

"Go find 'Bella,' say hello, or something, and leave the gift with her," I said nonchalantly, as I entered her number into my mobile phone.

"Okay. So what – are you just gonna call her up?"

I smiled and turned to face her. "Honestly, darling, you underestimate me. I was a professional spy and assassin for three years, remember? I've got a plan." _Actually, I just thought of a plan, but you don't need to know that._

"Would you mind sharing it, then?" she replied, a little agitated at my smug demeanor.

"I'm not entering her phone number in to_ call_ her, I'm entering it to_ track_ her." I handed the phone over to her so she could see what I was talking about. "I picked up a splendid little computer program from Hawkins a few months ago, and modified it to work on my phone. You see that little dot on the map?" I asked, pointing out a flashing spot on the phone's large, color display. "That's Bella's approximate location right now."

"How do you know that?"

"My phone is triangulating the location of her phone by hacking into the cell phone tower grid and calculating how close she is to the various relay stations in the area. It's sort of like a back-door GPS."

"Well, that's a nice trick. So, where is she now?"

"At a grocery store, it seems. We're just a few blocks away – would you like to drop in and pay her a visit?" I smiled a huge know-it-all smile. She rolled her eyes.

"You do realize that this makes you almost as nerdy as it does clever, right?"

"Yes, but you've got a thing for nerds, remember?"

"Oh, shut it and drive," she replied, handing the phone back to me with an endearing grin. Coraline and I were truly perfect together. Just having her along made any adventure fun.

We caught up with Bella at the grocery store, and decided to wait outside for her, rather than risk missing her if we happened to check the wrong side of the store while she checked out. The majority of the vehicles in the small parking lot were older, American cars and trucks, many of which looked like they hadn't been washed and waxed in years. And then, there was a shiny new black Mercedes Benz, sticking out like a jewel among pebbles. We went out on a limb, assuming that it would be the car Edward Cullen's fiancée was driving, and waited there, pretending to admire it. It didn't take long – in less than ten minutes she was walking out the door, arms laden with two large paper sacks as she headed straight for us.

Once she was within twenty feet or so, I turned to her, speaking as calmly and nonthreatening as possible.

"Hi there, would you like help with those sacks?"

She eyed us suspiciously, slowing considerably.

"Um, no thanks. I got it."

I could see the suspicion written all over her face. So could Coraline.

"Hi, I know this probably seems a little weird, but... you're Bella, right?" she asked, putting on her best polite smile. "I'm Coraline, and this is my husband, Grant. We're friends of Edward's..."

Bella's expression went rapidly from suspicion to intense concern. She was around vampires often enough – she must have figured out we were two more of them. She stopped completely, swallowing forcefully as her heart rate began to race. It was at that point that I realized just how good she smelled. The fragrance of her blood was so sweet I could almost taste it. And to think, she was going to marry a vampire. Edward had far more self-control than I gave him credit for. I reacted quickly with my ability, inhibiting Coraline's hunting responses as best I could, while I let my own throat burn. I kept a straight face, though. We were already scaring the poor girl enough as it was. I didn't want her to think she was in any real danger.

Unfortunately, that's exactly what she thought.

"Who sent you? Jane? Demetri?" she asked through nearly clenched teeth. "We're still on schedule, I swear. You can ask Edward – he's right around the corner. Or check with Alice. She's watching everything..."

"Relax, Bella," I said, extending my hands in a non-confrontational gesture. "We're not here to hurt you." The thought occurred to me that I was still wearing my sunglasses (part of my regular traveling wardrobe). I took them off, letting her see my warm, brown, non-threatening eyes. Coraline did the same. "We're not hunters, and we're not here to check up on you. We're just friends who wanted the chance to meet you, and to wish you and Edward a happy marriage."

She relaxed a little bit, but she was still uncertain. "What... kind of vampires are you, then?" She asked, still standing rigidly a full fifteen feet away.

"The kind that only, um... feed from those who are already deceased," I answered. "I promise you, we are no threat to you whatsoever."

"Edward didn't mention anything about you," she said, still skeptical. "He told me about all the other vampires he's inviting. If you're such good friends, why wouldn't he invite you?"

"Because we've been in hiding for the last sixteen years," I replied. "Through a series of misunderstandings, we've fallen out of good graces with the Volturi. We have to keep an unusually low profile."

"Well, I can relate to that," she replied with a hint of sarcasm. _Interesting. So, I wonder what kind of trouble she's in?_

"I know this is awkward," Coraline said apologetically. "The last thing we want to do is make you uncomfortable. Why don't we just leave you with our gift, and be on our way?"

She walked over to our car (which was three spaces down) and pulled out our wedding gift – an original Monet that we had been carrying around for a while. She slowly walked back over to Bella, and presented it to her.

"Here, this is for you and Edward," she said softly. "We weren't sure what your decorating style was, but if you don't like it, you should be able to sell it for enough to buy whatever sort of painting you want."

Somehow, the gift must have made the difference. Bella's demeanor softened as she set down the grocery bags to accept it, and though I could tell she still had her guard up somewhat, her hear rate began to return to normal. Her eyebrows scrunched together as she noticed the signature at the corner of the painting.

"Oh my god – is this an original?"

"It is," I replied. "We've been hanging onto it for a while, waiting for Edward to eventually meet the right young lady. You may not fully realize how long he's been waiting to find you, but let me assure you, from the perspective of a very old friend, you're about to make all his dreams come true. He's a lucky man."

"Wow. Thanks. So, you're really his friends?"

"Yes. I'm sorry we scared you," I replied, making an effort to continue to smile, despite feeling like a clumsy sword-swallower. "We really shouldn't even be here – this out in the open with other vampires around – but when I heard Edward was getting married, I couldn't go without at least wishing him and his beautiful bride well."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I don't know about the 'beautiful' part, but, um... thanks. Really. It's, uh, sweet. So..."

"So, I guess we'll let you go," Coraline said, coming over to stand beside me. "Tell Edward that we said 'hello,' and that we'll be back in contact as soon as it's safe."

As she was talking, I noticed the sound of a car pulling into the lot behind us and coming to an abrupt halt. I didn't think anything of it, until a cold, stone hand grabbed my shoulder forcefully and spun me around, where another hand gripped my throat. I reacted without thinking, placing my hand on the attacker's forearm and reaching in with my mind to cut off his grip.

And then I saw his face. It was Jasper.

He recognized me at the same time I did him, his expression a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

"Grant?" He asked, looking as if he'd seen a ghost.

"Jasper?" I echoed. "How did you-"

"You know these guys?" Bella asked him. I had already forgotten she was still there.

"Yes, I do," he said, releasing my neck and taking a step back. "You should probably go, though. And give Alice a call for me. She'll be worried."

"Yeah. Okay, well, um... see ya," she said, slipping into her car quietly.

"Where on earth have you been?" Jasper asked, as soon as Bella's car door shut. "We looked for you – Alice and I... you disappeared. She couldn't see anything. We thought... we thought you were dead."

"I'm so sorry, Jasper. I wish I could explain."

"What's going on with you? Are you in trouble again? You can tell me – I can help."

"No, you can't. Not this time," I replied. "It's... complicated. The less you know about us right now, the better. Speaking of which, how did you know we were here?"

"I didn't know it was you, actually. Alice saw two vampires talking to Bella in the parking lot. She looked scared. So, naturally, I dropped everything I was doing and got here as fast as I could. I'm just glad it's you."

"So, how are things?" I asked him, breaking a smile. "I take it Alice and the rest of the family are well..."

"We're doing fine. Had quite a bit of drama with Bella around, but I think that's all behind us now. We sure could've used your help a few months ago. Somebody had a personal vendetta against Edward, and came at us with a whole newborn army. 'Course, we showed 'em who's boss, but still..."

"I'm so sorry. If I had known..."

"We miss you," he said, looking at Coraline as well. "Not just me. All of us. We should at least try and stay in touch."

"I wish we could, Jasper – I really do – but it's just not safe for you. Trust me."

He pressed his lips together and nodded. "Can you at least stay for the wedding? I'm sure Edward would love to have you there."

"We're already too exposed just being here," I said regretfully. "Officially, we're dead. The more people that know we're alive..."

"Yeah, I get it. Still, anytime you need something... I'm here."

"I know. Thank you."

"Should I not tell Edward, then?"

"I'm sure Bella will tell him regardless."

"Oh, I wouldn't be too sure," he said with a smirk. "Bella's pretty good at keeping secrets. Edward can't read her thoughts."

"Seriously? Has that ever happened before?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"Well... that explains the initial attraction."

"Bella's a good girl. I'm happy for him. I'll just be a lot happier when she doesn't smell so dang good."

"Yeah, I second that," Coraline chimed in. "I don't know how you guys put up with having her around so often."

"Lots and lots of self-control," Jasper replied with a slow nod.

"So, she's going to be changed after the wedding, then?" I asked.

"Yep. That's the plan."

"Good. Because you wouldn't want-" Coraline's elbow to my ribs cut off my sentence.

"Wouldn't want what?" He asked, a little confused.

_Wouldn't want an accidental baby on your hands_... I thought to myself. _And a dead mother_. "Uh, wouldn't want a human... moving into the house. That would just be torture." _Not a bad recovery there, Willoughby. Guess being around Coraline long enough has its benefits._

"I don't mean to break up the reunion, but we should really be going," Coraline said, nudging me in the side again.

"She's right," I agreed. "There are far too many eyes and ears around here for comfort. Do say hello to Alice for us, though, would you?"

"Sure thing," he answered. "Ya'll take care. And whenever you're done with this fugitive business, give me a call."

"We will. Goodbye, Jasper."

"Adios, Amigos," he replied with a wink. "See you next time."

We got back into the car, and drove directly back to Seattle, as Coraline reminded me of how close I came to giving away our secret. No one could know about London, not even my closest friends. This was the price of parenthood, and I accepted it. Little did I know, that price was about to get much steeper.

Harvey and Lucy had a fashion show to attend in New York while we were away, which left London at home alone for the weekend – only, Coraline and I got back into town before the weekend was halfway over. No one was home when we got there, which was to be expected. London had a few friends in town that she spent time with on a regular basis – I assumed she was spending time with them. We unpacked our bags, watched a television show, and had a liquid dinner before ever going down the hall to London's room. She had a few pieces of laundry that needed to be put up, otherwise, we may not have checked for hours. There, taped to her bedroom door, was a note she had left for us – short, hurried.

Mom, dad, and the family,

I want you all to know how much I love and appreciate you, and everything you've done for me, but I can't keep having these dreams and visions and not do anything about them. I'm going out to find my birth father, if he's really still out there. Please don't worry about me. I have plenty of money, and a dependable car, and I know what I'm doing. I'll call once I get settled.

Sorry to leave like this, but we all know it's the only way I could go.

I love you all!

London

My feet were moving before I even finished reading, firing up the computer to try and track her down using her mobile phone. She must have known I'd try, because she left it at the house. I tried tracing the car, the credit cards, anything I could think of, but they were all dead ends. There was no record of her flying anywhere. Her car was found at a used-car dealership in Oregon. All the cash had been withdrawn from her bank account. She was gone.

The family and I spent the next three weeks earnestly searching for her – we called everyone we could risk asking, we put out missing person reports, we exhausted every avenue. It was as if she totally disappeared. She finally contacted Lucy over a month later, speaking to her briefly through her mental connection. Everything was dark and quiet on the other end, so we had no idea where she was. All she told us was that she was safe, she hadn't found her birth father yet, and that she would let us know as soon as anything changed. Hearing from her was nice, but it did little to assuage the worry in my mind. As intelligent as she was, she was still terribly naïve – an easy target for those who take advantage of others. I knew she needed the space, though, so I let her have it.

London checked in with us about twice a month – sometimes talking to Coraline, sometimes to me, sometimes to Harvey or Lucy. We all suspected that her running was about more than just finding her father. We knew that she was a grown woman with her own hopes, desires, and need for independence. The "father" thing bothered us a bit, though, especially since we had no idea who he was, or if he was actually the one trying to contact her.

Of course, London's father could have been a perfectly harmless man, but something in my gut told me this fellow was bad news. Three days after Christmas, my gut was confirmed.

I was reclining in my over-sized leather chair, watching a college football bowl game by myself, when I received a text message on my mobile phone.

Get in your car and take a drive. Alone.

It's about your daughter. Tell no one.

An intense fear rushed through my veins like icy needles. _Is London okay? Has she been kidnapped? Has she been killed? Has someone in Volterra found out about her?_ The questions fired through my mind in rapid succession, as I slipped quietly out the back door and made the short walk to my Corvette garage. The '07 had the most gas in it, so I fired it up, and took off, headed nowhere in particular. It didn't take long for my next set of instructions to come.

If you ever want to see your daughter  
>alive again, come to the Porterhouse<br>building: 23797 Dunleavy Rd. New Orleans, LA.

Come alone, or she dies. Throw away your  
>phone. We'll be watching. Do not take a<br>plane. We'll be watching. You have 32 hours.

My heart sank as I spun the car around, nearly thrusting the acceleration pedal through the floorboard as I headed south. _They have her. They have her, and I may already be too late to do anything about it. Oh God, help me!_ In a matter of seconds, the car was racing at 130 miles per hour, weaving through serpentine mountain passes toward my eventual destination. I did a bit of mental calculation using the road maps I had committed to memory: 32 hours from Whistler to New Orleans was possible, but it would take a little creative driving. There was no time to go back to the house, no time to stop and check for directions. It was a good thing I was driving a sports car.

I picked up my phone as I drove, activating a program to give me step-by-step directions to New Orleans. Before I could even enter the address, the phone vibrated with another message.

You were told to throw away your phone.  
>If it's not out of your car in 60 seconds,<br>you'll never see her again.

As soon as I read the text, I threw the phone out the window like it was a live grenade. They weren't kidding when they said they'd be watching. I hated the thought of leaving the rest of the family with no clue as to what was going on, but there wasn't time to tell them. I drove all through the night, and through the next day, and into the night again, only stopping for gas, for which I paid via credit, to try and leave some trail to follow. 31 hours and 2 police-chase-escapes later, I rolled into New Orleans.

The address was located in a distressed, and mostly vacant part of town, one hit hard by the flooding a little over a year prior. I must have glanced at my watch every fifteen seconds, as I sped through the quiet streets, looking for the _Porterhouse building_. I finally arrived, less than a half-hour early, and climbed out of the car slowly, checking my surroundings for any evidence of foul play. It was an older building, 6 stories of wood and brick that looked as though they could collapse at any moment. The windows were boarded up, as were those of the buildings on either side, and there was no light emanating from within the walls. I tried to smell for any vampires (or humans, for that matter), but there was an intense, sulfurous stench that drowned out every other scent in the area. There were no signs of forced-entry in the front of the building, and no trace of a car or footsteps through the area in the recent past. Whoever this was, they were good at what they did. I was truly going in blind.

I closed my eyes momentarily, focusing my mind and readying my heart, and I walked across the street toward the eerily lifeless building. I grasped the handle of the front door, which turned – unlocked – with a little effort. The door swung open with a creak, and I took a step inside. I caught a whiff of vampire scent as the air moved around my nose – I wasn't alone. With all my senses on high-alert, I began to creep forward. And then I stopped abruptly. As soon as I left the doorway, I was stuck, contained in an invisible bubble. I struggled against the sides of the mental wall around me, as a small group of shadowy figures spread out on either side. There was no sign of London anywhere, only vampires who looked ready to strike at any moment.

"Thank you for coming, Grant Willoughby," a familiar voice said sinisterly. "Have a seat. Let's talk."


	23. Chapter 22

_22. SEARCH AND RESCUE_

- - - CORALINE GRAY-WILLOUGHBY - - -

"He'd better be in trouble, 'cause if he's not in trouble, he will be when I find him."

I checked every room in the house three times. I called his phone, I texted, I emailed. I knew he wouldn't just shut me out like that, it wasn't like him. Grant was in trouble. Lucy didn't want to admit it, but Harvey knew I was right.

"I think she's right," he told her, pacing back and forth with me in the living room. "This just isn't like him at all. He knows we would worry like this if he ever just up and disappeared. Something's wrong."

"What do you think happened?" Lucy asked, still doubtful. "I mean, it's not like someone kidnapped him, or something. He just left."

"Did you _see_ him leave?" I asked.

"Well... no."

"Exactly. No one did. We don't really know anything."

"Do you think it had something to do with London?" Harvey asked, narrowing his eyes as he thought about it.

"I'd bet anything it did," I answered. "Maybe she contacted him, asked him to come meet her or something."

"But... why would she want to talk to just _him_?" Lucy asked. I could tell she was a little hurt by the idea.

"Those two have a special relationship. Maybe it was something she just felt more comfortable talking to him about than to the rest of us."

"Yeah, that's one option," Harvey said. "Another option is that somebody snuck in here and grabbed him. Or maybe somebody has London, and they're ransoming her, or something."

"Oh, Harvey, you don't think that, do you?" Lucy replied, visibly worried.

"I don't know what to think," he said coldly.

Before we could come up with any other nightmarish scenarios, we were interrupted by my phone ringing. I darted across the room, thinking it was Grant, but saw a text message from Harriet instead.

I need 2 talk 2 U asap. In person.

It's serious. How fast can U get to Rome?

I tried to call her back, but she didn't answer, so I texted that I was on my way, and headed straight for the airport. Whatever this issue was, I knew it had to be about Grant. I booked the first flight to Rome; Harvey and Lucy stayed behind, in case Grant came back home.

Harriet sent directions for a meeting place to me while I was on the flight. I hailed a cab, and was at the place she asked for in less than 30 minutes. She was there in 45, along with Wesley.

"Okay, what's going on?" I asked as soon as she was inside. I didn't have time for formalities.

"I'm not sure. Something big," she said. She seemed worried, which didn't bother me. Wesley seemed worried, too. That bothered me a lot.

"Tell me everything you know," I said impatiently.

"Well, again, I don't know the details yet, but right before I texted you, we got a call from the catacomb. The big three are calling up the entire stationary guard on standby, and they told us to stay in the area and not to plan anything for the next three days."

"Are they going to fight someone?"

"That's what it looks like," Wesley said. "I haven't seen them put everyone on alert like this since the India War. They probably want Harriet along for the ride so they can have good weather."

"So, how does this affect Grant?" I asked him. Harriet answered.

"No one knows where we're going officially, but there's a lot of talk about a coven in the Pacific northwest. People think they're going to punish them for something."

"Seriously, Harriet! Could you be more vague?" I snapped. The pressure was getting to me, and I was tired of uncertainty.

"I might have more to give you," she retorted matter-of-factly, "but my sister made me swear off the gossip chain, remember?"

She had a point.

"Okay, fine. Well, did you hear anyone say what they thought this was about?"

"I keep hearing stuff about... immortal children," she said hesitantly, watching for my reaction. I never told Harriet the full story about London, but she knew there was something special about her. Something secret. I'm sure that's where her mind was going.

I tried to keep a straight face, but I could feel the emotions getting to me. This was becoming a very bad day.

"Crap. That's gotta be us they're talking about," I said, burying my face in my hands. "How soon is this all going down?"

"I dunno. Probably within the next forty-eight hours," Wesley replied.

"So, then... what about Grant? That still doesn't explain why he'd be missing."

"Well, I can only guess that he either found out about it and is trying to stop it, or someone already got to him."

"I'm sure it's the first part, then. He has a lot of old friends – inside contacts. One of them probably tipped him off, and wants to keep anonymity," I said, lying to myself. That's what I wanted to believe, not what I actually thought. Wesley could tell.

"We don't know anything for sure," he said, putting a firm hand on my shoulder. "What I do know is that it isn't safe for you here – or there. You need to get into hiding, and call Harvey and Lucy. There's still time for them to run, get a head-start, at least."

"I can't just hide while the rest of my family's in danger," I replied sharply. "I have to do something."

"You have to stay alive," Wesley replied sternly. "The rest'll take care of itself. You can use our beach house in Greece to lay low for a while. We'll keep an eye on everything the Volturi are doing, and fill you in as soon as we learn something. We have cell reception there – Grant'll still be able to contact you."

"If he's okay."

"He will be. He's a tough little bastard. He's made it through worse than this before."

"I hope you're right," I said, feigning depression. I wasn't depressed – I was mad. Intense. Focused.

Harriet handed me a key. "This will get you into the house. You remember how to get there. I'd swim if I were you. It's a little cold, but it's the safest way. I promise, I'll call or text as soon as I know something."

"Thanks, Harriet," I replied, taking the key and shoving it in the pocket of my jeans. "You be safe, too."

"I will," she promised. "Now, you need to get going, before somebody realizes you're here, or that _I'm_ here, actually."

"Okay. Go. I'll call you if I need anything."

She hugged me before leaving the little shop. I waited for her to get a head-start back to Volterra, and then started off that way myself. There was no way I was going to sit in their house and just wait for things to get better. If the Volturi was behind this, then I was going to follow them to Grant. I called Harvey on my way to Volterra, and told him that there was danger coming. I asked him to take Lucy and meet me in Edmonton, where we would lie low for a while. I also said Grant was with Hawkins investigating the trouble with the Volturi, and that he'd be meeting us there. No sense in them worrying unnecessarily.

Once I got near town, I swung around to the north of the city limits, and hid downwind from the Volturi's private airfield. If they were really going to North America, they'd be taking one of their big private jets. I'd just wait for them to show their hand, and figure out the rest as I went. About an hour after I got there, I saw the human flight crew pull their full-size, commercial jetliner out of one of the hangars and start fueling it up.

_Bingo. Now all I have to do is wait._

- - - GRANT WILLOUGHBY- - -

Four vampires inched toward me warily, as the bubble held fast, preventing me from doing anything but stand there.

"There's no use fighting it," one of the men said, pulling out a metal chair slowly. The legs made a horrible grinding squeal as he drug them across the uneven concrete floor. "Sit."

As soon as I was seated, the bubble tightened around me, virtually pinning me to the chair. It seemed Rahbya had been practicing since the last time I'd seen her in Havana. I couldn't move. Once the henchmen were sure I was incapacitated, their leader emerged from the shadows, strolling over with a business-like formality.

"Surprised to see me?" Philippe asked, his face breaking into an arrogant grin. "You probably thought you were so smart, hiding from me all these years. But of course, it's always the intelligent ones who lack common sense," he continued, a teasing tone in his French accent. "I'll hand it to you – you were doing a great job playing dead, all the way up until you stole that whore from me. You know the ironic part of it all? You blamed it on the 'Sons of Alphaeus.' Not that I wouldn't have found you otherwise, but that certainly made things easier."

He walked closer, leaning in just inches from my face and replacing his smile with a flat expression. "I _am_ the 'Sons of Alphaeus,'" he said, backing away slowly, as his cocky smile returned. "Thank you for the obvious hint. Oh, and for future reference, you really should do a better job of covering up your forgeries. 'J. Jenks?' Really? You may as well have rolled out the red carpet. Ah, but I digress. You're probably wondering what I want with you, eh?"

"Where is London?" I asked coldly through clenched teeth. I knew how twisted this guy was, and the mere thought of my little girl having anything to do with him made me wild with anger. Bubble or no bubble, I was going to rip him in half the first chance I got.

"That's exactly what I want to ask you. Where is she?"

"What?" _I thought he had her. Why would he be asking me?_

"Where are you hiding the girl?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Really? So, she's living at your house, right on the edge of my detection, and then four months ago she just disappears? Come now, Grant, I wasn't born yesterday. You may be able to smooth-talk your way around imbeciles like the ones I sent to Havana, but you won't have it as easy with me. Now, I'm going to ask you again – where is the girl?"

He thought I was hiding her. I figured that was a better story than her running away.

"She's hidden someplace you'll never find her."

"Ah, playing the action hero, are you? Well, let me lay it all out. You're going to tell me where she is sooner or later. We can do this the easy way, or the painful way. It's your choice."

"Go to hell."

"The painful way, then?" He replied with raised eyebrows, before turning to one of his henchmen. "Very well. Loosen his willpower a bit."

The next 2 hours passed with Philippe's thugs using me as a punching bag. They struck me over and over again, until my entire upper body felt like one giant bruise. Philippe came back in after 2 hours, and when I wouldn't talk, I got 2 more hours. And another 2. And another. Eleven hours later, I still hadn't talked, and the thugs were getting frustrated. I was determined to keep my mouth shut about her running away, no matter how long they beat me. As long as Philippe thought I was hiding her, he would assume she was protected. I had to hope that would at least be a deterrent to him.

When he came back into the room after the 5th punching session, Philippe seemed different – almost... bored.

"Let's try this again, Mister Willoughby," he said casually as he strolled in. "Where is the girl?"

"Forget it."

"Still? After all the beatings? You won't talk?"

"Never."

His face lit up slightly with a crooked grin. "I was rather hoping you'd say that."

He walked into the next room and promptly returned with a small, black device that looked almost like a gun.

"Do you know what this is?" He asked, as he held it out on display. I kept my mouth shut – I wasn't playing his games.

"A gun, of course," he said, answering his own question, and firing the weapon at my chest. The small metal bullet bounced harmlessly off my sternum like a drop of rain on a tin roof, making a ping-ing sound as it ricocheted off into the distance of the large warehouse-style room.

"Not very effective, is it?" He continued with a put-on frown. "I've searched for three hundred years to find a weapon that actually works against vampires, and do you know what I found? The answer was right under my nose." He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a small, silver object that had a faint shimmer to it. "What's stronger than a vampire's skin? The great riddle. The holy grail of weaponry." He bent down and looked me in the eyes, just inches from my face. "Do you know what's stronger than a vampire's skin?"

I exhaled through my nose, pushing his offensive scent out of my nostrils. I knew, and from the way he was talking, I got the impression he knew, too. That didn't exactly fill my heart with hope.

"Of course you do," he continued. "An object that is made in the likeness of a vampire." He stood up again, shuffling the little object through his fingers like a street magician with a playing card. "I really must thank you for the idea – or, your research assistant, to be more specific. You really should be more careful protecting your trade secrets. You were the mastermind behind it, though, insignificant you. To your credit, you figured out how to do something that has been eluding us for centuries. Restructure a solid, one particle at a time. Genius! But, of course, like most geniuses, you lacked the vision to see the true potential in your invention, and that is where I come in." He held the object out in front of my face as he continued. "This is power. This will allow me to take anything I want from anyone I want whenever I want, and what I want right now is for you to tell me where the girl is."

"Not a chance."

He loaded the object – a bullet – into the chamber of the gun, held it up to my left shoulder, and fired it at point-blank range. This time, there was no ricochet. The bullet tore a searing-hot hole through my shoulder, leaving a throbbing ache as the sound of torn metal echoed in the vacant room. I didn't look at the wound at first. I knew it was probably bad, but I didn't want to break eye contact with Philippe. He was trying to intimidate me, and it wouldn't work. Of course, it did hurt tremendously. I grimaced, but uttered no sound. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of causing me so much pain.

"Not bad, eh?" he said, chuckling slightly as he loaded another bullet into the chamber. "I'm told the sting lessens in a week or two. What won't lessen, though, is the knowledge that some small part of you is now buried in the wall four buildings down. That part won't be coming back, sorry to say. Now, I can get very creative with my placement here. Why don't you save me the trouble, and tell me where the girl is?"

He pointed the gun at my right knee cap.

"Just a tip," he continued. "This is going to hurt a lot worse than the last one. Are you sure you don't want to reconsider?"

I said nothing, so he fired again.

He wasn't lying – the wound hurt badly this time, causing pain to shoot through my leg in both directions like fingers of lightning. I closed my eyes and groaned, focusing on the task at hand. I had to remain strong. I couldn't let him win. When I opened my eyes, Philippe was still standing there, arms crossed, a smug smile on his face.

"Still not in the mood to talk?" he taunted. "Perhaps a little more time with the pain will change your mind..." he nodded to the others in the room, and they resumed their work pummeling me, only this time, they focused on the two bullet wounds. The pain was immense, but I wouldn't break. I loved London too much. And besides that, I didn't know where she was. Either way Philippe wouldn't get anything out of me.

The next round of beating was a little shorter than the previous ones, cut off by Philippe's early re-entrance. When he came back in the room next, he seemed more grave, more focused.

"Ready to talk yet?" He asked coldly.

I said nothing.

"Very well," he said, turning to one of his accomplices. "Start a fire."

The diminutive, raggedy-haired man pulled together a pile of scraps from the room, and doused it in liter fluid. With just one strike of a match, the fire erupted, filling the entire room with flickering orange light. Philippe walked around behind me, speaking directly into my ear.

"Tell me where the girl is," he said, taking hold of my little finger on my left hand, and pulling it back. I tried to move my arm but it was stuck to the chair, thanks to Rahbya. Once again, I refused to answer.

"Tell me!" he shouted, pulling harder. I could feel the muscles and tendons become strained. He wasn't backing down. Neither was I. Finally, with a sound like a tree trunk snapping, he broke the finger completely off, holding it up in front of my face as I groaned in pain.

"Last chance, Willoughby. Where is she?" He growled.

"It doesn't matter what you do to me," I said defiantly, grunting through the pain. "You're never going to find her."

He narrowed his eyes, walked over to the fire, and dropped the finger in. My heart sank as I watched the shimmering white digit evaporate into smoke, never to return. _This is going to be the end of me, _I thought somberly_. I'll not take her down with me, though. I have to hold to my position. I can't falter._ I stared him in the eyes, gathering as much anger and contempt in my expression as I could muster. He became furious.

"Where is she?" He yelled, just inches from my face. "I'll disassemble you piece by piece, you miserable worm! Tell me where she is!"

"No."

I didn't budge.

Philippe stormed out of the room, leaving me a few moments of relative rest, as the guards watched me closely, waiting for his next instructions. The pain in my shoulder was now a distant memory, overshadowed by the throbbing in my knee and the ache of a missing finger. I began to look at my surroundings, searching for any weakness in the guards or the building that would allow me to escape. I knew it took a lot of concentration for Rahbya to hold me in so tightly. It was my hope that if I stretched this out long enough, I could catch her at a weak moment and break out. I knew I couldn't get away from the group, and that was okay. All I needed to do was remove Philippe's head from his body and get it to the fire. I was ready to trade my life for his. At least that way, London would be safe.

Before I got to do much planning, Philippe was back, looking more frustrated than ever.

"Leave us," he said to the guards, who responded promptly, leaving only three of us in the room – Philippe, Rahbya and myself.

As soon as the room was empty, he began talking to me again, speaking in a low, soft tone. "Listen, we're both reasonable men here. We both know how this is going to end. I am going to kill you, whether you tell me or not. We both know that. The difference is, I can make life a lot better for your daughter if you cooperate."

"What do you want with her?" I asked with subdued anger.

"To keep her from being wasted," he replied simply, bending down to speak on my level again. "This very moment, the Volturi, along with the entire guard and a host of spectators, are en route to America. They're coming here to destroy a coven who's been accused of spawning an immortal child. What they don't know is that this child is, in fact, a half-breed, just like your daughter. It won't make a difference, though. She'll be destroyed, along with the rest of her family. The Volturi won't change their mind – they've already made their decision. Now, I could have told them about your daughter some time ago, but I chose not to, because she's gifted. It would be a terrible waste to destroy such a useful creature. That's not how the Volturi sees it, though. If they find her, they'll kill her without hesitation."

"And you're going to do what, then?"

"Protect her. The Volturi listen to me. If I find her first, and I show them how useful she could be, they would allow her to live. That is, if I get to her first."

"They won't find her, and neither will you. You're bluffing."

"Oh, yes, they will find her. Once they learn about the half-breed in America, they'll know what they're looking for and how to track her. It will only be a matter of days. She will be hunted down and killed, along with the rest of your family. I offer you a way to save her from that fate."

As terrible as it seemed, I was actually considering his offer. Maybe it was the cumulative effect of the torture, maybe it was the end of my will power, maybe it was something else altogether, but somehow, his words were starting to make sense. Of course, I didn't know where she was at the moment, but it had been a while since she checked in. As soon as she realized I was in trouble, she'd connect with me, and I could get her to come in. The idea was sounding better and better as it rolled around in my head. There was still the matter of the rest of the family, though.

"If... I tell you," I replied, "what happens to the family – Harvey, Lucy... Coraline?"

"I already tried to kill your brother and his wife once. They can go their merry way."

"And Coraline?" I asked.

He chuckled coldly. "If I wanted her dead, I'd have killed her two months ago when I found your house. Trust me, I could care less."

"I find that hard to believe."

"And what do you know about the subject, huh? You know nothing! Believe me, she had her chance. She had multiple chances."

I was highly doubtful that he'd just leave her alone, and nothing he was saying eased my mind.

"So, you'd just let her walk away, even after all the work you put in trying to woo her?" I asked pointedly. His face soured.

"I gave everything to that ungrateful whore. Everything. She lacked for nothing under my care, and what did she want? You. Miserable, commonplace you. I could have given her wealth and power. I could have made her name great. Instead, she's wallowing under a rock, cut off from the civilized world. And for what? Look at you! A man who lacks even the stomach for natural feeding. No, she had her chance. I've hired too many people, spent too much money, wasted too much time on that wench." He paused a moment to let his temper return to normal before he resumed his sales pitch. "Let's cut to the chase, shall we? You're stubborn, I'm persistent. The only difference is, in one hour, I'm going to kill you, and you can't do anything to stop me. So, why don't you make some use of your pathetic life, and spare your daughter's."

I closed my eyes and began to think it over. Philippe was a despicable man – under normal circumstances, I would never let my daughter within miles of him. There was something about the way he explained it, though... it just sounded right. I wanted to trust him.

And then I had a revelation.

Coraline had told me countless times before about how Philippe could persuade people to do his bidding – the Guard, his associates, even the Volturi. That would explain why his proposal sounded so good – he was pushing it on me. It wasn't a good deal, after all. He was probably lying, at least about sparing Coraline and the family. I couldn't give in, no matter what it sounded like. I would resist until death.

Of course, he didn't need to know that.

I hardened my will, opened my eyes, and tried to buy more time.

"Let me think it over," I said, looking down at the floor.

"There's no time for that. I'm on a tight deadline," he replied sharply. "I need to know now. Do you think I'm some kind of lightweight you can just push around? I have more experience in my little finger than you do in..."

He trailed off. Actually, he kept talking, but my attention trailed off. There was something else affecting my senses.

"Dad? Are you okay?" I heard, as clear as if it was reaching my actual ears. It was London. She was contacting me. "Where are you?" She asked quickly. "Are they hurting you? Hang on, I'm coming."

I wanted to talk to her, to tell her to run away, to hide and never look back, but I wouldn't risk letting them know I was contacting her. She had her eyes open for once – I could tell she was in a car moving quickly, and that she wasn't driving it.

"Can you look around? I know about where you are, but I need help pinning down your location. Can you identify anything in the building you're in?"

I looked at the ground, staring at my feet, as I tapped out a message in Morse code. R.U.N. D.O. N.O.T. S.A.V.E. M-

Philippe cut me off, grabbing my chin and yanking it up.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you, slug! Are you even paying attention?"

He slapped me in the face, turning my head to the side. I forgot to close my eyes as I moved, and without trying, I noticed a row of derelict printing presses in the periphery of my vision. London noticed it, too.

"He's in a warehouse with some big machines," she said, seemingly to the other occupant in the car with her. "Hang on, dad..."

I lost the connection for a brief moment, before she came back online. "Dad, it looks like you're in the Porterhouse Building. Is that right? Can you talk?" She said with hope. I didn't reply. "Okay, hang on. We're turning around. We'll be there in..." she glanced to her left, and saw a vampire-esque hand holding up two fingers. "Two hours. Maybe less. Just hold on, okay? We're coming to get you."

Philippe started talking again, something about already being late, but after just a few sentences, he was interrupted by one of the other men, who rushed into the room.

"Sir – she's connected to him. Right now!"

"What?" he replied in a growl, grabbing hold of my head and looking into my eyes. "Where is she, Willoughby? Tell me! Where are you, London? Come in and be safe."

"London – Run! Run away!" I shouted, as I closed my eyes. She broke the connection.

Philippe tried to yank my eyelids open, but the man stopped him.

"It's broken, sir. She disconnected."

I ventured a look at this new man's face. He hadn't been with the others earlier – at least, I hadn't noticed him. He looked strangely familiar, though I couldn't quite figure out where I recognized him from.

"Did you see anything?" Philippe asked the man. "Do you know where she is?"

"She's somewhere relatively close by, traveling in a car with an accomplice."

"Where?" Philippe asked impatiently. "Where is the car-"

"I don't know," the other man interrupted, "but she's headed this way. She said she'll be here in two hours."

_O, God... he was listening. How did he know?_

"O, why couldn't she just be in town," Philippe complained with rolled eyes. "I have to be in Portland by five am, or else the Volturi will know something is going on. Get the others in here and start the smell back up. As soon as she gets close enough, we're going to take her."

"What if she tries to contact him again?" The man asked.

"Break his neck," Philippe answered casually. "Take the girl to location three. Clean up the mess here, and call me when you're finished."

He looked at me with a devilish grin before he left the room. "I knew you'd pull through for me."

In seconds, the other men were roaming about the room – five of them, in all – making plans to ambush London when she came for me. My stomach turned itself into knots as I thought about it. She knew where I was – she spoke of the "Porterhouse Building" as if she recognized it. She was coming for me, along with just one other person. Normally, I'd be thrilled to have someone coming to my rescue, but not this time. London was walking right into Philippe's hands – I had to try and warn her.

I concentrated as hard as I could, trying to think about London as the Philippe's henchmen waited impatiently to ambush her. If I could just connect with her for a moment, to tell her it was a trap... I tried and tried, and then, when I finally gave up, it happened – just a flash, a fraction of a second, and then it was gone. The familiar-faced man didn't even realize it had occurred. I was about to try and reach out for her again, when I noticed something odd - the raggedy-haired man who had been pacing in front of me for over an hour froze like a statue mid-stride. His eyes glossed over, as his eyebrows pulled together in confusion. Moments later, he slumped to the ground, motionless. Everyone just stared at him, dumbstruck. A few seconds later, the same thing happened to another one of the guards, and then a third one. The remainder of Philippe's thugs scurried around the room, too panicked to notice the drumming of soft footsteps racing down the street outside. I heard them, growing swiftly louder.

Someone was coming for me.

In a flash, the front door of the building came tumbling through the room, flooding the dark warehouse with reflected sunlight. A small figure – fully vampire – moved swiftly through the remaining guards, snapping limbs and decapitating with relative ease. Rahbya broke her hold over me and began running, but I wasn't about to let her get away this time. I reached out with my mind and paralyzed her from the waist down. My rescuer was on her in a flash, ripping her torso in half and throwing it onto the smoldering fire that had earlier burned up my finger.

The new fighter pulled out a phone, his back still to me, and spoke into it in hushed tones.

"It's all clear. He's alive. Hurry."

The man turned around, and I recognized him instantly.

"Zane?"

"Hello, sir. Are you alright?"

"Fine. How did you..."

He waved the phone. "Even vampires can't outrun Motorola."

"But... who told you I was here?"

"Who do you think?" He replied with a smile. He eyed my hand, noticing the missing finger. "Ooh, that looks bad. Here, try this on," he said, snapping the finger off of one of his fallen victims and tossing it to me. "You might want to fix it before she sees you like that."

"Before _who_ sees me?" I asked. Before he could answer, I smelled her, just outside the building. I turned, and saw her peek through the door, her expression a mixture of hope and uncertainty. She stepped in, backed by another familiar face, and warmed my heart with relief as she spoke sheepishly.

"Hi, dad."


	24. Chapter 23

_23. REGROUPING_

- - - CORALINE GRAY-WILLOUGHBY - - -

Waiting, waiting, waiting. That's all I was doing. Waiting for something to change. The plane had been fueled for hours. _What are they waiting for_? I kept asking myself, as I crouched down in a hole I dug in the side of a hill outside Volterra. _It's been dark for hours. Is it really that hard to pull everyone together?_ I probably picked up my phone a half a dozen times to call Harriet and ask what the holdup was, but I was supposed to be in Greece, not worrying about all of this. By 11pm, I was starting to wonder if the jet on the runway was just a diversion of some kind, when they finally arrived – a convoy of black Maserati sedans, all with heavily-tinted windows. The seemingly endless stream of cars rolled onto the tarmac one after another, as I watched robed figures climb out and board the jet. I was too far away to make out most of the faces, and there were way too many individual scents to identify any, but I did recognize a few people there. I saw Felix – he was so big, he was hard to miss – and beside him, the twins, Alec and Jane.

That was your army, right there. The rest of the numbers were just for show.

I also noticed Wesley and Harriet, along with several other "civilian" Volterra employees boarding the plane. And of course, boarding by their own personal elevator to the first-class deck were the Volturi and their wives. I counted 74 vampires in all, boarding with the kind of perfect precision you'd expect from a Volturi outing. With numbers like that, it was obvious they were ready for a fight. _Just how strong do they think we are?_ I wondered. _Did Grant meet up with Hawkins and his gang? Maybe that's why they're bringing so many bodies... _

I knew sneaking onto the plane wouldn't be easy, but I wasn't worried. If I could break out of Volterra, I could sneak past a few human flight crew members and get onto that plane. I hid myself in the cargo hold (which was unsurprisingly empty), and snuck back out once the plane landed in Seattle.

It was still dark at the airport, which made it easy for me to get around the humans on the tarmac and watch the Volturi's army unload. The big three and their wives each climbed into their own sleek BMW sedans, while the rest of the grunts boarded two tour buses. Stowing away on one of those would be a lot harder than getting on the plane – I had to follow them on foot. Fortunately, the big diesel engines produced a pungent odor that was pretty easy to follow. I ducked and dodged my way through the airport, and was able to catch a taxi cab and follow the buses as they headed north toward the port. I had the cab driver drop me off a half-mile back, and handed him a $20 bill – the only cash I had on me. From there, I watched as the whole group got out of their vehicles and boarded a small ferry. I slipped into the water, and found them from underneath, waiting for the vehicle to leave shore, and then following them underwater.

After about an hour of traveling north, the ferry made an unexpected turn to the west, heading for the Olympic peninsula. I followed them all the way to shore, and watched from a distance as they got off the boat and left on foot, again, headed west. There were 78 of them now – there must have been a few more waiting for them on the boat. As if they needed any more help.

I gave the growing army a safe head start, and followed behind them, tracing their scent into the forest of Olympic National Park. _What on earth are they doing here?_ I wondered, as I crossed the border into the park. _This is a really weird way to get to Vancouver... unless... they're not going to Vancouver. Maybe they're not coming for us at all. _The thought occurred to me as I tracked the 78-member killing squad, that my family wasn't the only large coven on the northwest coast.

They were going to Forks.

The coven they were coming to destroy was Jasper and Edward's. I felt a small lift of relief when I realized it, but at the same time, I felt horrible for them. _Did they make an immortal child, or with Bella being a human girl with a vampire husband... either way, it's bad. I have to try and help, if I can. Maybe that's where Grant is..._

I got so caught up with my revelation that I forgot to follow the group's scent, and found myself lost in the middle of a million-acre wilderness. Trying not to panic, I backtracked my steps, trying to pick up on the scent again, but with the swirling wind, it was hard to tell what direction the smell was coming from. By the time I found the subtle signs of footsteps on the ground, I had lost over a half an hour. I shot down the trail like a bullet, hoping I could catch up to them before they reached the Cullens. An hour into my pursuit, I smelled the fragrance of burning vampire bodies, and looked up to see the telltale purple smoke rising over the tree line just 30 miles or so west of me. I ran faster, but my heart sank. From the looks of things, I was already too late.

- - - GRANT WILLOUGHBY- - -

As glad as I was to see London alive and well, it made me more than a little uncomfortable having her in the same room with all those villains, conscious or not. She didn't seem to notice.

"Oh my gosh, dad – they broke your finger?" She gasped, darting over to my side. I was still in the process of getting the foreign digit to attach to my hand.

"I'm fine," I lied, not wanting her to worry. "Are you okay? Are you in any danger?"

"I'm great... I mean, I am now..." she said, looking as if she would tear up at any moment. "I was so scared for you..."

"I'm just fine, sweetheart," I said, pulling her into a tight hug. "Everything's gonna be alright."

It felt so comforting to have her in my arms again, to know that she was safe. I lingered in the moment, forgetting our surroundings for a second or two. I didn't have long, though.

"Hey guys, we need to get moving," Zane said, inspecting the fallen vampires in the room to be sure they were all still incapacitated in some way or another. "Navi said the sleep could wear off in minutes, at best. We need to get as far away from here as possible."

"Why don't you just destroy them all?" I asked, looking at the bodies of the men who had just spent the last day and half beating me senseless.

"We'll let fate decide," he said, kicking the pile of firewood over next to one of the wooden pillars in the room. "Besides, we're short on time. We've gotta get Navi to the airport before anyone realizes he was part of this."

London took in the scene as we made our way to the door – she had never seen the kind of grisly death and dismemberment that accompanied a vampire battle. I could tell she was a little shaken up about it. We were two steps from the doorway when she stopped suddenly, her face pale in shock.

"Oh my gosh – that's him," she said, her eyebrows creased in disbelief.

"That's who?" Zane asked impatiently.

"The man in my dream – the one I kept seeing in my head. That's him!"

She was pointing to one of the bodies Zane had ripped apart when he rescued me. I looked at the face – it was the man who had come in later, the one I felt like I recognized, but didn't know how. Looking at him in this context, the connection was painfully obvious. He looked like London. Rather, London looked like him. Either way, the resemblance was undeniable. This was almost certainly her father.

Zane rolled his eyes slightly, and came back inside, looking at the face with us. He seemed unimpressed.

"What, you mean Edgar?" He asked sharply, obviously stressed about escaping quickly.

"Is that his name?" She responded, horror-stricken to finally find her father in pieces on the floor.

"Yes. I'll tell you all about him _in the car_."

He grabbed London's arm to lead her out the door, but she shrugged him off.

"We can't just leave him here, Zane. We have to bring him with us," she replied dramatically. She tended to take after her mother a bit in that regard.

"There's no time, London," he replied urgently.

"Well, then _make_ time."

"I don't think you understand how serious this is, okay?" he snapped. "I know what I'm talking about. Now get in the damn car."

"No, I don't think _you_understand," she fired back. "This is my father – my biological father, but still... I've been trying to find him, and he needs my help. I mean, look at him..."

"He kidnapped and tortured Grant. Are you sure he's that great a guy?"

"I don't think he knew what he was doing. And even if he did, he's still my father. I won't leave him."

"Well, then, it's him or Grant," Zane said with a huff.

"That's not fair."

"We only have one token."

"Then we'll keep them close together."

"That won't work. They'll know he's missing. They'll track him, and follow him right to us. Look, if he really is a good guy, and he got hooked like I did, then we'll find a way to get him out, but not now."

At this point, London had tears overflowing her eyes, forming little tragic lines on her cheeks. I was about ready to volunteer to stay behind, just to ease her emotional struggle, but Zane was right, and she knew it. We needed to get moving. With tears still streaming, London followed him out to the street, where our getaway car was waiting. The four of us climbed into a 1986 Chevy Caprice that looked like the wheels were about to fall off, and we raced off toward Baton Rouge.

"Here, put this on," Zane said, tossing a smooth, polished gray stone in my lap. Judging from the black nylon strap attached to it, I assumed it was to be worn as a necklace.

"What is this?" I asked, placing the cord around my neck.

"It's a token – um... okay. Short version. Finders like Demetri and Theodore, and... well, others, they track you by mental energy that your brain puts out, right?"

"Right..."

"Well, magnetic fields can disrupt that energy and make it near impossible to pinpoint. The token you're wearing is highly magnetic. Right now, it's keeping Theodore and Demetri from being able to tell where you are."

"Fascinating! I wish I would have known about this a long time ago."

"Yeah, very few people know about it, and that's an extremely rare piece of rock, so don't lose it, okay?"

"I certainly won't."

A quick scan of the car revealed that Zane was also wearing one, but Navi and London were not.

"Why don't London and Navi have tokens?"

"We're about to put Navi on a plane to South America; nobody knows he's been here, so nobody will be looking for him. And London doesn't need it."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm a wierdo," she replied. I could hear the eye-roll in her tone. "You know, I _am_ sitting right here. It's kinda weird with you two talking about me in the third person." "Sorry, honey," I said, looking over my shoulder to make eye contact. "Guess curiosity had me carried away."

"It's fine," she said with a partial smile. "I'm kinda used to it."

We stopped at the small airport in Baton Rouge and saw to it that Navi boarded safely, while London contacted the rest of the family. Once we were back in the car, we learned that Harvey and Lucy had heard news of the Volturi's action against an American coven, and had fled to Edmonton, thinking they were the target. Zane assured us all that the army was not coming for us, but given the developments over the last 2 days, we decided it was best not to return home. We told Harvey and Lucy to stay put, and began the cross-country drive to meet up with them in Canada. London tried to establish contact with Coraline, but kept running into some type of interference with her, and they couldn't communicate. Harvey told us that she was en route to meet the rest of us in Edmonton, and that the interference was probably due to her rate of travel, or something of that nature. It still unsettled me to a degree – not being able to contact Coraline effectively, but I let the worry pass out of my mind. I had plenty of other things to fill my thoughts at the moment.

Zane, London and I continued our highway journey, weaving our way through the southeastern United States all through the night. The only stops we made were to refuel the car, which needed to happen with relative frequency, due to the age of the vehicle. On one such stop, I took the opportunity to ask London a few questions while Zane was inside paying for the gas in cash.

"So... what's the story with you and Zane?" I queried, hoping not to come across as being too nosy. "Are you..."

"We're, um... complicated," she replied with slightly furrowed brows.

"Okay. So, in layman's terms..."

"We're kinda together, I guess. I mean, not officially, or anything, but... I dunno. He's protecting me, I know that much."

"Do you like him?" I asked, venturing out a little from my usual beat-around-the-bush approach.

"...maybe," she replied with a blushing smile.

"I'll take that as a yes."

"It's nothing serious, though. Just a little crush."

"Is he behaving himself? I mean... does he treat you well?"

"Absolutely. He's kept me out of a lot of trouble."

"Well... I suppose I'll go along with it. For now..." I said with a wink, as we watched him leave the pay station.

"Thanks, dad. I know it's a stretch, but he's a good guy."

With Zane back in the car, we resumed our journey, and in a short time, London was ready to sleep. I climbed into the passenger seat, and gave her the back seat to lie down in, affording me the chance to learn a little more about the last few months from Zane's perspective.

"So, Zane... I'm curious – how did you come to be my daughter's, uh... protector?"

"It's a long, ugly story, actually," he replied with a sigh. "I'll give you the highlights."

"Alright."

"After I ran into you in Havana, I bounced around a bit, not really sure where I fit in. Eventually, I wound up meeting some guys from the S.O.A. Real stand-up fellows. They took me in, and I became one of them. They were a pretty misunderstood group. Everybody from the outside labeled them terrorists, but they saw themselves as freedom fighters, willing to cross a few conventional lines to bring freedom from an oppressive government system. I had seen enough of the ugly side of politics to relate to their cause, and it was really refreshing to be accepted just as I was. Whenever things turned violent, I fought with them in the second India War – the one nobody knows about – and killed a lot of people. After the war, the group was scattered and unorganized. Then out of nowhere, this guy, 'Raphael,' showed up and pulled the group back together. He saw that I was a special, and offered me a high position in the organization. I took the promotion, not realizing who he really was."

"And who was he?"

"Philippe. Working under an alias, of course. I was so blind – I had no idea he was actually the same guy that hired me to kill you, the same kind of corrupt politician the S.O.A. are against. He had me totally fooled."

"Yes... he seems to have that effect on people."

"Right. So, I'm working for him, thinking he's 'Raphael,' mostly just collecting information. Then, four months ago, I get an assignment to pick up London and bring her in. I had a bad feeling about the whole thing, so I did some snooping around, and it turns out, there was a lot of ugly sh-uh, _stuff_... behind the curtain. Um, anyway... long story short, I learned who Philippe is, and a little about what he's trying to do. Turns out, he's actually into the whole down-with-the-government anarchist thing, only he was willing to do some pretty messed up stuff to get things done. I was gonna make the London job my last one, but then I found her, and I just couldn't do it."

"Couldn't do what?"

"Hand her over to them. She's way too valuable an asset for him to have, so I lied, and said she was being protected by somebody else. Philippe kept me on the job, trying to track her down, all while I was secretly hiding her myself and trying to find out more about what he has up his sleeve."

"I suppose today's actions didn't help your cause too much, then?"

"Oh no. My cover's totally blown after today. I'm on the run, just like you two."

"When you say London's a 'valuable asset'... what exactly did they want with her?"

"You know the little trick she did with Navi, making the guys fall asleep on you?"

"Yes..."

"Imagine a remote control option for any ability. Imagine having a world-class thought-pusher who could bend somebody's mind from the other side of the world, without them ever knowing what was happening."

"She could do that?"

"Yeah, I think so. I've been working with her on the connection thing, helping her explore more facets to it. She's a very talented girl."

"Yes, she is. Now, when you said she didn't need one of these magnetic tokens..."

"Yeah, the mind-tracking stuff won't work on her."

"Not at all?"

"Nope. Demetri, Theodore... they can't see her at all. Actually, she's probably the reason you stayed alive for so long after you kidnapped – er, um..._ rescued_ Coraline."

"How's that?"

"I was in the S.O.A. when you took her. Philippe was completely obsessed. He had us try to trace scents and check contacts, and of course, he had Theodore look for her. The thing he didn't realize is that London puts a sort of haze around her. With the rest of you living in the same house as her, she sort of hid you. Theodore couldn't find anything, which just made Philippe even angrier. His other trackers aren't even as good as Theodore. The only one who could have spotted you was Demetri, but apparently he was on your side."

"Wait – I thought you said London was invisible to Demetri, too."

"_She_ is. _You're_ not. Demetri's gift is a lot more powerful than Theodore's. Demetri could spot your mind and mine, even with London in the back seat. He's that precise. Theodore's gift is a lot more approximate. That's why we couldn't bring Edgar along. Without a token, Demetri could still track him, even with London nearby."

"You think Demetri would help Philippe?"

"Edgar's well-known in Volterra. The Volturi would order Demetri to help."

"I recognize his name – I believe he used to be a friend of Coraline's. Do you think he was a willing participant in my abduction?"

"I doubt it. But then, who knows? Philippe's got a way of twisting people up so badly that right and wrong look the same."

"In your investigating... did you ever come across any sort of research and development on a molecularly-engineered bullet that could penetrate vampire skin?"

"Well, yeah. I didn't have to dig to find that. Everybody in the S.O.A. knows about it. He's been developing those bullets for a few years now."

"I know this sounds bad," I said, resting my head on my hand in dismay, "but I'm responsible for the science behind them."

"So I heard. It's not your fault, though."

"I don't understand – I didn't tell anyone else about the research. Do you have any idea how he learned about it?"

"I don't know exactly. Supposedly, one of your research assistants found some of your failed attempts, and tried to pawn it off as his own discovery. After he published his findings, the S.O.A. sent guys to get him. He identified you, but he didn't know how you made the material."

"Obviously, some one else figured it out," I said, feeling the bullet hole in my shoulder. It still ached terribly.

"Yeah, that's way outta my area. He's got a whole team of scientists to figure that stuff out. I was just a grunt. I did as I was told."

"Have you any idea how dangerous those weapons could be if he were to mass-produce them? A gun that could injure vampires..."

"That's part of what I found out when I was snooping," he replied gravely. "He's making tons of them. He's got all the guys riled up about this big event, where the 'righteous' will prevail with our new power. It's pretty scary."

"How many men does he have?"

"Nobody knows. He keeps us in separate cell groups, like a terrorist organization. All we know about is our own cell. I've got a feeling it's a big group, though. Philippe's pretty good at recruiting."

London stirred slightly in the back seat, interrupting our whisper conversation momentarily.

"What's the nature of your relationship with her?" I asked him, once it was obvious she was still asleep.

"Strictly professional," he answered a little nervously. "I'm just trying to keep her alive and out of the S.O.A.'s hands."

"Are you sure? There's nothing else going on? It's okay if there is, I'm just curious."

"Don't get me wrong – I mean, she's a beautiful girl. Sweet, innocent-seeming. She's great. I have to keep my head on straight, though."

"So there's no attraction, then?"

"No. Well... maybe a little – but honestly, it's nothing to worry about. Right now, I'm just focused on stopping whatever it is Philippe is up to."

"Well, that makes two of us," I agreed.

London woke up several hours later, somewhere in the middle of Missouri, and tried again to contact Coraline. This time she was successful, and we learned the rest of the story about this Volturi American coven the Volturi had come to destroy was the _Cullen _family. Coraline followed them there from Italy, and witnessed the ensuing confrontation from a distance. She told us all the Cullens survived the standoff, and that it was relatively safe for us there, at least for the moment. Zane didn't like the idea, but we outnumbered him, so we turned westward and went to meet up with the rest of the family in Forks, Washington.

The trip felt like an eternity, but we arrived there at last, a full day after Coraline did. She was waiting for us in town, beaming from ear to ear to see me and London alive and well. It was an emotional (albeit short-lived) reunion, after which she led us to the Cullens' wooded lodge-style home. She called ahead once we were in the driveway, alerting the family that we were almost there, and we were treated to a royal welcome. Jasper and Edward were there, safe and sound, along with Alice and the now-vampire Bella. I greeted Carlisle, Emmett and the rest of the family warmly, but the obvious center of attention was the newest little Cullen, Renesmeé.

Nessie, as she was called by the majority of the people there, was the child of a vampire and human union, just as London was. Edward had inadvertently impregnated Bella on their honeymoon before she was changed to a vampire, and the resulting child was mistaken by an outside observer for an immortal child – hence, the Volturi's punitive action. Happily for all, the truth about Renesmeé was proven without violence, and the Volturi returned to Italy. I had a nostalgic moment watching the little 3-foot-tall Nessie playing with her new best friend, London. The two of them seemed to be chums already. As for me, I had a few old friendships to pick back up on. Jasper and I had a good long talk about London, Nessie, Bella, and everything else interesting that had been going on for the past eighteen years. I felt more than a little guilty for missing out on helping them in their times of need, especially when we had a common threat, but as always, he was very understanding. The two of us talked for well over an hour, and probably would have gone on a while longer, had we not been interrupted by a rather grave-looking Edward, along with Zane and Coraline.

"There's something we need to discuss as soon as possible," Edward said, speaking to both of us. "I'm not sure we're entirely out of the woods yet."


	25. Chapter 24

_24. SPYING_

"What exactly do you mean, 'out of the woods?'" Jasper asked, one eyebrow raised in suspicious concern. I wasn't surprised. I was never 'out of the woods.'

"I mean we should talk about this someplace a little more private," Edward replied under his breath. Coraline and I exchanged knowing glances, and the five of us took a stroll out into the woods so we could talk without unnecessarily alarming some of the more excitable members of the families. Once we had traveled a safe distance, Edward turned around and continued the conversation, speaking primarily to Jasper.

"Okay, you know how I kept saying that it felt like there was more going on here with the Volturi showing up than just face value? Well, listen to what Zane, here, has to say."

Zane took the floor. "Philippe DeChevalier, one of the senior Guard members, has known about half-breed children for a while now – at least six months. I've been working for him off-the-books for a quasi-terrorist group called the Sons of Alphaeus."

"Yeah, I'm familiar with them," Jasper interrupted. "You're telling me they're being organized by a member of the Volturi Guard?"

"They haven't always been, but yes, they are now. It's a long story. Anyway, the point is, this guy – Philippe – he's planning some kind of big event, and he's got plenty of power behind him."

"What kind of event are we talking about?" Jasper asked.

"I'm not quite sure yet, but I know it has to do with some radical realignment in Volturi policies, especially when it comes to specials like us. As in, we'll all be rounded up and forced to work for them... or be terminated."

"And that's not all," Edward added, visibly worked up about the situation. "He's got weapons – guns that fire bullets engineered like vampire teeth. Zane said he's mass producing them."

"Do they actually work?" Jasper questioned. I pulled up my shirt and showed him the bullet hole in my shoulder. Coraline shuddered – she hadn't seen it yet.

"Living proof," I said grimly. "Shot right through me like a hot knife through butter."

"Well, isn't that just grand?" Jasper said with a heavy sigh. "Are we ever gonna get a chance to rest?"

"Maybe for a while," Edward answered. "It'll take them all some time to regroup after their last attempt blew up in their faces. They'll try again, though. I saw it in Aro's mind. He's frustrated, but he hasn't given up. He still wants me and Alice... and I suspect quite a few of the rest of you," he said, looking at me and Zane.

"Do you think Aro and Philippe are working together on this?" I asked Edward.

"No. Aro was genuinely surprised to learn about Renesmee's true nature. He came here believing she was an immortal child."

"That doesn't make sense, though," Jasper interjected. "How would Aro not see something so obvious as one of his own Guard members working behind his back? Surely Marcus can see what's going on."

"Philippe is as cunning and crafty as they come," Zane answered. "I'm sure he's found some way to slip the defenses."

"So, what's our response to this?" I asked. "Obviously, we can't just sit around and do nothing."

"I'm not exactly sure what we _can_ do," Edward replied. "If we had hard evidence that Philippe was working against the Volturi's wishes, we could always bring a formal accusation against him. The problem is, we need proof. Either way, that still won't solve the root problem Alice and I are facing."

"Maybe it will, though," Coraline said. "If Aro was at least partially motivated to grab you because of his paranoia, then bringing Philippe to justice would alleviate that part of the equation. He may still want you just because, but that wouldn't be enough to warrant just taking you."

"I'm not so sure he'll give up even then," Edward replied, "but I suppose it's worth a try."

"Then it's evidence we need, right?" I asked. "Coraline and I can do some investigating..."

"No, you two need to stay hidden for a while," Zane replied, speaking to me and Coraline. "Let me do the spying – I know where to look."

"I'll check with my contacts and have them keep their eyes open for anything fishy," Jasper said. "Edward's gonna have his hands full raising a little girl. I don't mind traveling a bit, though. I'll see what I can dig up."

"I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm tired of looking over my shoulder," Edward said with a tightened jaw. "We need to put an end to all of this, once and for all."

"Agreed," I replied. "Let's get to work, then."

We stayed with the Cullens for a few more days, before splitting up to our individual assignments. Jasper and Alice touched base with their contacts and tried to keep a watch on major decisions coming out of Volterra. Wesley and Harriet went back to work in Italy, watching closely for any suspicious behavior. Harvey and Lucy worked alongside Hawkins and his crew to see what they could learn from the assassin world. Zane disappeared into deep cover, working to gain insider information from the Sons of Alphaeus and their various cell groups.

The Cullens invited London to stay with them for a while, which kept her safe, and gave Renesmee another friend to play with. As for me and Coraline, we were fugitives on the run once again. Zane acquired a token for Coraline, which offered us relative invisibility in the mental realm. All the traditional methods of tracking still worked, though, so we had to be careful about everything we did. We kept mobile, flying our private jet around the globe, never staying in the same place for more than 2 or 3 days. It was fun, but mentally exhausting.

Six months passed without any luck finding incriminating evidence, but we finally got our first break, near the end of June 2007. In their process of watching Philippe's movements, Wes and Harriet found an anomaly. He had a regularly scheduled security meeting with regional representatives in Citta di Castello, Italy, once every other week. The curious part was that he always showed up to the city a full hour earlier than the rest of the people, while his itinerary showed him arriving just in time for the meeting. Also curious was the fact that the mysterious Elliot Pinter was always unavailable at the exact same time every two weeks, though no one seemed to know why.

Harriet first contacted Jasper with the news, who relayed it to Edward, who traveled to Italy to do some long-distance mental eavesdropping. Edward confirmed that Philippe was in fact meeting Elliot in Citta di Castello, but he was unable to read anything from Elliot's mind. According to Edward, he needed my help to get Elliot's mind in a "readable position." The next scheduled meeting was less than 3 days away, and we were already relatively close, so Coraline and I headed to Citta di Castello to meet up with Edward and see if we could get some of the hard facts we were looking for.

Since the weather was on the sunny side, we waited in a rental car a few miles out of town until dusk, and arrived at our rendezvous point fifteen minutes early. Edward was there one minute later.

"I like this guy," I muttered to Coraline under my breath as we saw him approaching. "Punctuality is courtesy. Wish he could teach my brother that concept."

"Wish he could teach my sister while he's at it," she replied with a mild eye roll.

The two of us had grown accustomed to making light of serious situations, but once Edward showed up, it was all business.

"Hello, Grant, Coraline," he said with a degree of formality, plopping his leather satchel on the hood of our car and pulling out a sleek new MacBook. "Ready to get to work?"

"Absolutely," Coraline replied for the both of us. "Show us what you've got."

He quickly pulled up a map of the marketplace a few blocks over, where we expected the meeting to take place.

"Okay... see this street here?" he said, pointing to the on-screen map. "That's where they should be coming from – both of them. Last time, it was Elliot who got there first, then Philippe showed up a couple minutes later. You'll want to make sure to avoid that whole side of the market at all times."

"Got it," I replied, nodding. He continued.

"This area here... this is where they like to drift around when they talk. They meet right in the middle of a crowd of people, probably to make it easier to blend in and harder to eavesdrop on, which obviously isn't helping them in our case."

He looked up briefly to wink. At least he still has a sense of humor in there under the business exterior.

"Now, the last time they were here," he continued, "I didn't really get much of what they were saying. Most of the problem was Elliot, and that's where I need your help, Grant."

"I'm all yours. What do you need?"

"When I tried to listen in on Elliot's thoughts, all I got was a bunch of gibberish. I didn't understand it at first – I kept trying to sort it out. And then it hit me. His thoughts are moving too fast. Not that he thinks so much faster than other people, but it's like they're moving around rapidly. I'm not exactly sure how to explain it to someone who doesn't, um... read minds..."

"That's okay, I think I understand enough. So, you want me to try and slow his entire mind down?"

"Yes. If you can."

"I should be able to do something like that, provided I can get close enough to him."

"How close do you think you need to be?"

"It depends... fifteen feet or less would be ideal."

"I don't think we can risk that much. Could you do it from fifty?"

"Probably not. The effect is just too weak when I'm that far away. I can inhibit my scent – that should allow me to get fairly close, as long as the crowd can block me from view."

"Well, we're going to have to try. Don't overdo it, though. We can always try again in two weeks. I don't want you to get caught."

"Trust me," I replied with a half-chuckle, "I don't want that either. I'll give you the best shot I can. And what about Philippe? Do I need to do anything for him?" Please tell me something that's horribly painful...

"No. I can read him just fine. I could've gotten more out of him the last time, if I hadn't been so caught up trying to figure out Elliot."

"And what about me?" Coraline asked. "What can I do?"

"Stay here and keep a lookout for trouble," Edward said with a smile. "Grant and I will do the heavy lifting."

She rolled her eyes. "You boys and your egos..."

We adjourned our planning meeting a few minutes later, and got into position. I set up on the roof of a 5-story church building about a quarter-mile from the meeting point, which gave me a near perfect view of all the entries and exits in the area. Edward and Coraline were holed up in a quiet alley about a half a mile away.

We didn't have cell phones or short-wave radios with us for communication, so we had to rely on one-way mental conversations via Edward's ability. I checked in with him to let him know I was in position, and then began to watch the busy street like a hawk. Hundreds of faces swarmed in and out of the narrow lanes, making my job more than a little challenging. To make matters worse, I had never actually seen Elliot Pinter in person. All I had were a few digital photographs Edward pulled up on his computer. I held the photos up in my mind, and began comparing his face to the ones I saw down below me, and then, before five minutes had passed, I found him.

_We have contact_, I told Edward mentally. _I've got a visual on Elliot. He just arrived at the area via the northern entrance, just like we expected. He's standing in front of a bakery... just waiting there, it looks like. Hang on – there's someone in the way..._ I got up and moved to the other side of the roof, trying to get a better angle. _Okay, that's better. I see him now, still in front of the bakery. No sign of Philippe yet, but it looks like they're using the same meeting location. I'm going to start making my way over there._

I slid down the steep side of the high-pitched roof, landing on the 2-story building next door and dropping into the narrow alley behind it. From there, I crept in the shadows, quickly making my way through damp walkways just wide enough for me to fit through, and ending up on the edge of the crowded marketplace, about 70 yards from Elliot. There were more warm bodies around me than I was used to, and it took some work to keep my focus, especially since I had to use my ability to inhibit my scent (rather than stifling my hunting urges). With my attention divided, I would have to get even closer to Elliot to get the desired effect. I ducked my head slightly and began trying to make a path through the crowd, but before I could push much closer, I saw the other face I was looking for.

_Okay, Edward, I've got a visual on Philippe now_, I thought, hiding behind a corner for a moment to focus on communicating clearly. _I didn't catch which direction he came from, but he's making his way through the crowd now_. I stepped back around the corner, and watched as he pushed his way to Elliot, speaking briefly, before Elliot placed his hands on Philippe's head. The gesture looked meaningful, though I had no idea what it was about. Afterwards, they began talking casually, and looking around, like they were suspicious of being watched. I made an effort to push through the crowd again, trying to get close enough to feel Elliot's mind. With no shortage of shoulder-bumping and quick dodging, I closed the distance to about 40 yards, before I saw another man approach my two targets. He was obviously a vampire, but he looked odd, as if his skin was somehow thinner than usual, almost to a translucent degree. He also looked a little older than the other two, with shoulder-length hair that was almost pure white. Elliot greeted this newcomer in the same fashion that he had welcomed Philippe, placing his hands on the older man's head.

_Okay, Edward, if you can take a moment to look through my eyes, there's somebody you should see_, I thought, risking a long period with my face in the open so I could get a better view._ I don't recognize him, but he seems to be working with the other two. I'll have to get in closer if I'm going to have any chance of slowing down Elliot. Stand by..._

I bent down, pretending to tie my shoe, and quickly crept in closer, staying as low to the ground as possible without drawing too much attention to myself. Fortunately, everyone around me was so caught up in their own business that they paid me little attention. When I popped up to take a look next, the three conspirators were beginning to look as if their conversation was serious. I was still 25 yards away, but I tried to exert my influence anyway. It was no use. With the crowd in the way, filling my nostrils with the smell of blood, I couldn't concentrate. I had to find another way to get closer, and it had to happen quickly. I glanced around me, looking for another solution, and wound up heading for a row of glass-paneled storefronts to my right. The thought occurred to me that while the presence of a wall would insulate me somewhat from the smell of blood, it wouldn't impede my abilities. Philippe and his associates were within 8 feet of the row of buildings – if I could make my way inside, I would have the positioning I needed to get the job done.

I took a few steps back, finding an alley between two of the buildings, and started planning my way inside. There was no easy access to the buildings from the front or back, but I did notice a 2nd-floor window that looked easy enough to break into – I just had to do it quietly. After a quick glance to make sure no one was watching, I bounded off the opposing wall and caught onto the ledge of the window, applying enough upward pressure on the antique wooden frame to break off the metal latch and open it up. The rickety window made more than enough sound to cause me concern as I slid it all the way up, but the noise and business of the street below drowned it out sufficiently. The room I snuck into was a kitchen, apparently someone's living quarters, positioned above the storefront on the ground level. A quick sniff confirmed the presence of at least one human in the building, but I heard no sounds of motion, which meant that he or she was most likely asleep. I didn't have time to check – I had to get down to the first floor and do my job.

I rushed through the narrow hallway, coming to the staircase and descending in one silent jump. The door to the business was locked, but with a little effort, I broke the knob and gained access. Once inside the store, which happened to be some sort of watch repair shop, I moved to the far wall and peeked out the large window. The trio had apparently moved in my direction while I was positioning myself, and was now less than 15 feet away. I crouched down in the corner, reaching out with my mind, and started to work on slowing down Elliot.

In all my experience with slowing down or speeding up processes, I always had the most success with very specific locations and operations. This was a huge task – slowing down an entire mind. I saw inside Elliot's brain, and immediately, I recognized what Edward was talking about. The various areas of his brain were operating at extraordinarily high speeds, especially the prefrontal lobe and hippocampus, both of which are associated with memory formation and processing. I took a moment to study the flow of impulses in each area – they were markedly different from the usual process in humans and vampires. I wasn't exactly sure where to begin, but I started pushing, trying to cause things to slow down, at least a little.

After trying a few different mental approaches, I found one that seemed to work, and pushed on it with all my focus, letting everything around me fade in the periphery. I was vaguely aware of their speech, which was just above a whisper, and caught a few random phrases in the lulls between crowd noises.

"...schedule can't be concrete yet, otherwise..." one would say.

"...diversions, just in case. And if that doesn't work, we should at least consider overpowering them with brute force..." another responded. Then quiet for a while.

"...-ong until the weapons are in place?" the first one asked.

"We're talking two to three months, at most," a third voice replied. _Weapons, huh? Yeah, I already know about that part._

Once I had been successfully inhibiting Elliot for 4 minutes or so, I felt his mind began to push back, rerouting information around my mental roadblocks to regain speed. It was an intimidating, impressive response, especially considering the fact that it was most likely subconscious. I fought back with another approach, pushing even harder, to the point that absolutely everything in my peripheral senses went half-numb. Things were so inhibited, in fact, that it took me 15 seconds or so to notice the wooden object striking me on the shoulder. I came to my senses momentarily, whipping my head around to see an elderly Italian man swinging a cane at me, and yelling at me to get out of his store.

_Great. So he wasn't sleeping after all._

I tried briefly to reason with the man, standing up slowly and speaking in a low, calm tone, but it didn't seem to have any effect on him. At the same time, I was losing my hold on Elliot's mind – I could feel it adapting to my latest blockade and developing another work-around. I simply didn't have time to bother with the old man. I grabbed the cane the next time he swung it at me, and tossed it across the room, explaining to him slowly that I had no intention of harming or robbing him, but he wouldn't calm down. I couldn't really blame him – anyone in their right mind would be upset if a stranger broke into their home and business. I didn't want to hurt him, but I had to think of something quickly. His shouting wasn't especially loud, but it was bound to draw attention before long, and with Philippe and his associates on the other side of the wall, I couldn't afford any attention coming my way. I was nearly at my wits end when a most welcome relief showed up. Coraline came darting through the room, taking hold of the man from behind before he ever realized she was there. I watched in shock as she wrapped her arms around his neck, cringing at the thought of his brittle spine snapping like a twig in her grasp, but the snap never came. Instead, she held him tightly, inhibiting the blood flow to his head slightly in order to render him unconscious. He struggled for a few seconds before giving in and slumping slowly to the ground. She winked at me with a smile, and I breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing I wanted was another mortal life on my conscience.

With the threat of the shopkeeper neutralized temporarily, I returned my efforts to Elliot's mind. As much as I appreciated Coraline's help, her presence in such close proximity to the others meant I had to inhibit not only my own scent production, but hers as well, all while trying to keep a handle on Elliot's resourceful brain. Juggling the new list of tasks was just too much for my mind to keep up with, and after a few moments, I felt all three tasks slipping. Afraid of being detected, I released Elliot's brain, turning my focus to blocking scent production. In doing so, I regained a degree of my peripheral senses, and was able to overhear a few more bits of conversation from the group. They were saying something about needing to find a new place to meet, not wanting to take any chances this close to the 'finish line.' I knew there was a chance that they had been spooked by the noise the shopkeeper made, but if Edward was able to successfully listen in on their conversation, it would be worth it. We just had to get back out of the city without being spotted.

The three men outside talked for another minute or two before beginning to wrap up their discussion. I risked another peek out the window, and saw Elliot say a few phrases to the older man before putting his hands on his head again. This time, I experienced something very strange as he did it. For about two seconds, I felt everything around me get dull, almost like the effect on the lights in a building when it's being affected by a large power-draining appliance. In that moment, I felt almost like I was floating in a half-dreaming, half-waking state, unsure of where I was or what I was doing. Then, just as suddenly as the feeling came, it lifted, and I was back to normal. I peeked back out the window, and watched, as the older man walked off into the crowd, leaving just Philippe and Elliot outside. The two of them were talking a few other things over, so I knelt back down in my corner to try and slow Elliot's mind again. As soon as I turned around, my plan was derailed by Coraline's odd expression.

"What is it?" I whispered to her, reading her face with concern.

"I don't know," she replied, rubbing the back of her neck gently. "I just had the strongest feeling of deja vu..."

That worried me. Vampires don't have deja vu.

"When did it happen? Just now?" I asked, peering into her mind. I had a troubling feeling that the numb sensation I felt earlier was the same thing causing her deja vu.

"Yeah, just a second ago. It was so strong, I was absolutely sure I had been here before. Did it happen to you, too?"

"Not exactly," I half-answered, focusing too much on her brain to fully respond to her question. At first glance, everything inside seemed to be in normal condition. Then, without warning, the numbing sensation came again, a little stronger this time. I fought the sudden drowsiness, and kept my mental focus on the workings of Coraline's brain. What I saw was bizarre – it was like an outside force was pushing around on the memory centers of her mind, causing a little jolt, like a dining room table when someone bumps it with their knee. After the 2 seconds or so were up, things settled back to their usual routine, with no discernible displacement occurring.

As soon as I released my mental focus, I noticed that Coraline was laying on the floor, unconscious. In a flash, she was in my arms, as I desperately searched her body for any signs of trauma. She regained consciousness in about 5 seconds, with no awareness that anything odd had happened, which was, in itself, very odd. She swore that she was alright, so I ventured one last peek through the repair shop window. Philippe was now gone, only Elliot remained, jotting something down on a handheld mobile device of some kind. I watched him finish what he was doing and walk off heading north. As soon as he was out of sight, Coraline and I rushed out of the building, laying the unconscious shopkeeper back in his bed, and began making our way back to our rendezvous point.

Edward was waiting in the alley when we got back to him, making notes of his own on a small pad of paper. He finished what he was writing and tore the page out as we walked up.

"Hey Edward," I said as we approached. "I'm sorry about the drop in performance there. I was having a bit of trouble with the shopkeeper."

"That's alright," he replied solemnly, never even looking in my direction. "I got all the information I needed."

His expression was a mixture of woe, disgust and anger as he continued staring off into space. Whatever he knew, it wasn't good.

"So, what did you hear?" Coraline asked him. "Do you have any evidence we could use?"

"It's a coup," he replied, still staring blankly. "They're planning to overturn the entire government and set themselves up as the new rulers."

"What? Philippe's out of his mind!" She replied, echoing my thoughts. "How on earth does he plan to pull that off?"

"With a lot of help," Edward replied. "He's got his hooks into a lot of people already. I knew he was working with Elliot, but I didn't expect to see Caius here. Not that I should be surprised..."

"Caius, as in, one of the Volturi?" I asked.

"He was the older one you didn't recognize," Edward replied flatly. "I knew he was upset about the trial and Renesmee, but this..."

"How on earth is that possible?" Coraline asked. "Surely Aro will read his thoughts and see that he was here."

"I don't think so," Edward answered, finally looking up. "As soon as they were finished talking, everything in Caius' head went crazy for a few seconds, and then he walked away, not remembering anything he just talked about. He didn't even remember why he was in town, or how he got there. All he knew was that he was supposed to meet with Philippe again about something in a few weeks."

"That doesn't add up," I said, trying to work through the facts. "What's the point of having a meeting if he's just going to have his memory wiped when it's over?"

"That's just it – I don't think it was wiped," Edward replied. "I think it was scrambled."

"Scrambled?"

"Once you got Elliot's mind to slow down enough, I had a good look inside. I've never seen anything like it. He would be carrying on a normal conversation with his conscious thought, and at the same time, his mind would be cycling through different random memory segments constantly, so fast that they were almost a blur."

"You know, that sort of makes sense," I said, thinking back to the curious exchanges of impulses I witnessed earlier in his brain. "His mind kept firing back and forth between short-term and long-term memories in an unusual pattern... it almost seemed like he was connecting and reconnecting different memories to one another, but not in the normal linear movement like everyone else..."

"Like he was just shuffling them around," Edward added.

"Exactly. Like he was playing a game of cups and balls. He keeps passing the memories around in different locations, until only he knows where they are at a given moment."

"I think it's deeper than that, though," Edward said, stroking his chin. "He's not moving entire memories. It's more like flashes of memories, like bits and pieces. I felt like I was seeing one or two frames of a movie at once, and then it would change to another movie altogether. It's really hard to follow."

"Well, what good would an assortment of memory bits be if they don't fit together?" I asked. We both stood quietly and pondered for a minute.

"They're probably a diversion," he suggested. "Like radio chatter – if you're going to send an important message, you send lots of other dummy messages to make someone have to sort through an impossible amount of data before they can decode it."

"Maybe..." Coraline said after a moment. "But maybe not. Maybe he's using them like a BitTorrent."

"A what?" Edward asked. I didn't know what it was either.

"A BitTorrent. As in, internet downloads. Okay, basically, it's a system where you use multiple sources to transfer a single file. A handful of computers on the network have the file. When you go to download it, you get one piece from one computer, the next piece from another, and so on. Then, the software on your computer takes the pieces and reassembles them into one file. Seriously – you two have never heard of that?"

"No... but that makes perfect sense," I replied. "If he can do that to his own mind – scramble memories and put them back together at a later time – then maybe he can do it to others. I watched him put his hands on Philippe's head before they talked – and after. Thumbs right on his temples. I'll bet he was messing around with his memory."

"That's gotta be it," Coraline agreed. "Or at least, something like it. They meet, talk about what they're going to do, then Elliot scrambles their memory of the meeting. They can't recall the memory, and neither can Aro. All he would find would be sporadic, random bits of memory spread out through who knows how far in their mind. It would be almost impossible to detect, especially if you're not looking for it. Then, next time the three of them get together, Elliot puts the pieces back in place, and they pick up where they left off."

"That's a good workable theory," I replied. "We can test it the next time they meet – that is, if they meet here again."

"I don't think we have time to find out," Edward said, with a hint of anger in his voice. "They've already started carrying out their plan."

"Okay, so what does that mean?" Coraline asked.

"They have a lot of allies, but first, they're going to remove any legitimate threats to make it an easier transition."

"And by 'legitimate threats,' you mean..."

Edward handed Coraline the slip of paper he had been writing on earlier. I looked over it with her.

"This is a kill-list," he said bitterly. "The ones crossed-out are already dead. They're going to move down the list until all the threats are neutralized, and then they'll stage the coup."

I looked over the names on the list, and my heart sank.

_- Daniel Potts _

_- Havier Renault_

_- Kurtfielt _

_- Grayson Tennenbaum_

_- Pearl Whitley _

_- Hermes_

_- Garrett Wythe _

_- Zane Thatcher_

_- Nahuel _

_- Harvey Willoughby_

_- Lucy Willoughby_

_- Ronan Hawkins_

_- Zafrina _

_- Kebi_

_- Amun_

_- Coraline Gray _

_- Wesley Pemberton _

_- Jasper Whitlock_

_- Rosalie Cullen_

_- Emmet Cullen_

_- Carlisle Cullen _

_- Esme Cullen_

_- Bella Cullen_

I didn't know if the list ended with Bella, or if Edward was simply unable to write any other names after hers. Either way, it was an intimidating sight. Clearly, they knew who their resistance would be if they tried anything.

"I noticed you're not on there," I said, looking over the list again.

"Neither are you," he replied somberly. "We're on the 'recruiting' list, along with Alice and Renesmee, and a handful of others. They're prepared to move us to the kill-list if they can't persuade us to join."

"Terrific. Well, we obviously won't join... and we can't allow them to work down the list, either."

"No. We have to try to warn everybody. Of course, as soon as we do, they'll know we're onto them..."

"If they don't suspect it already," Coraline added. "I didn't see Felix or the twins on the list – do you think they're working with Philippe?"

"There's no sure way of knowing, if we're right about Elliot's ability," Edward answered. He chuckled bitterly. "They may not even be aware that they're in on it. It's hard to know who we can really trust – anyone who's had contact with Elliot in the past... what, at least a year? Any of them could be a willing associate just waiting to have their memory pieced back together."

"Oh god..." Coraline said, before he even finished his sentence.

"What?" Edward and I asked in almost perfect unison.

"I've been around him... a lot. I worked for Elliot. I remember something changing, something seeming weird about him. Right after that, he and Philippe both got really distant... do you think..."

"What – you think he's brainwashed you?" I asked.

"I don't know, but that deja vu I felt when he did the memory-arranging... you didn't feel that, but you were just as close as I was. Maybe it was because he's already been messing around in there."

She had a point. The way her mind responded to the memory-rearranging that Elliot did fit the theory of having previously dislodged thoughts. What it didn't explain was why they would try to use her as an associate. There was no way Coraline would ever willingly go along with anything Philippe thought up. Unless, that is, they had a thought-pusher powerful enough to change her mind... The idea both intrigued and terrified me.

"Think carefully," Edward said, taking a calm, even tone. "Around the time when things changed, did you notice anything unusual about your daily routine? Did you have any days when you felt like you lost track of time?"

"I don't know," she replied, becoming upset. "It was a long time ago. I don't... I don't know."

"If they did try to recruit you, and we could piece back together that memory – even a little of it – that would give us a lot more information. Good, usable information that could save lives. Between Grant's abilities and mine, I'll bet we could find the pieces, if they're actually in there. Would you be willing to let us try?"

Coraline sighed heavily. "Be my guest," she said with shrugged shoulders. "My mind's an open book."


	26. Chapter 25

_25. DEJA VU_

- - - CORALINE GRAY-WILLOUGHBY - - -

The idea that a creep like Elliot had possibly been messing around in my head was both scary and disgusting. I didn't care if it helped our cause, I was secretly hoping Grant and Edward wouldn't find a thing in there. That wasn't up to me to decide, though.

The three of us jumped in Edward's sport utility and drove about 15 miles out of town, getting far enough off the beaten path and into the mountains that we could have some sense of security. Once we were parked, the safe-cracking began. I was familiar enough with people trying to figure me out – sessions with psychologists and guidance counselors were a regular occurrence at the orphanage where I grew up. This was a completely different level of mental trespassing. It's not that I had anything to hide, but it made me more than a little self-conscious to have Edward sifting through my memories like a photo album.

The process was long and tedious. I didn't completely understand what they were doing, but on a basic level, Grant would use his mind to poke around in my brain and start stimulating different areas related to memory. Pieces of the memories Elliot scrambled would stand out somehow, like they were loose and movable, or something like that. Edward was watching my thoughts constantly, looking for the pieces that seemed to go together. When he found them, he would tell Grant, and they would somehow move stuff around to get the connections back in line. I tried to get Grant to explain it to me better, but he kept getting frustrated trying to describe it, and Edward kept telling me to focus, so I gave up and just sat there.

It was a really weird experience, having random memories thrown up onto your consciousness without you trying to think of them. Some of them were pleasant, some were painful... some were pretty darn embarrassing. Edward was a gentleman about it, which helped a little. I was still ready for it to be over as soon as it started.

It took the boys 6 hours of work to complete the missing memory, but they did it. I can't really describe what it felt like when they got the last piece in – it was sort of like that deja vu feeling, but with the weirdness and easily-accepted reality of a dream. Edward followed along, transcribing my thoughts to Grant, as I started from the beginning and relived the experience.

It's weird – I couldn't remember how I got on the jet with Philippe. Sometimes my mind got caught up in something else, and I found myself someplace familiar without remembering how I got there. This was definitely not a familiar place, though. The small, private plane was more luxuried-out than any car or boat Philippe had ever brought me in. Everything was plush leather, polished hardwoods and high-end chrome finishes that caught your reflection like mirrors all over the cabin. It was typical Philippe-grade stuff.

As soon as he came back from the cockpit, I asked him where we were headed, since I didn't remember that, either.

"It's a surprise, remember?" He said, with that stupid flirty one-eyebrow-raised move.

_Great,_ I thought, with a half-effort courtesy smile. _I don't like the idea of surprises with this guy_...

It was freezing outside when we got off the plane. Everything was frozen in white as far as I could see in every direction, which at least gave me a starting point as to where on earth we were. I wasn't satisfied with guessing, though.

"Okay, Philippe," I pestered him. "Can you at least tell me what continent we're on?"

"We're in Greenland," he replied matter-of-factly. "Far to the north, where it's too cold for the humans to come snooping."

_Super! He brought me out into the middle of nowhere. What's next?_

We climbed in some type of snowmobile and drove for about a half an hour, before a hatch opened up in front of us, right out of the ice. We drove through the opening, descending underground for another 10 minutes or so, before we came to a large, steel wall.

"This is our stop," Philippe said nonchalantly, gesturing for me to get out with him, while the vehicle's driver turned it around and started heading back to the surface. Without him saying or doing anything, the wall parted right down the middle, making much less noise than you would think it should, and we walked through.

"Tell me, Coraline," he began asking, as we passed through the first of a series of high-tech security checkpoints. "If you could create the perfect political system from the ground up – no restrictions whatsoever – what would it look like?"

"I dunno... why do you ask?" I answered, trying to see where he was going with this. I could tell there was an agenda behind the question, but he didn't want to divulge it.

"I'm just curious," he replied. "How would you set things up, if it were up to you?"

"Well..." I stalled, choosing my words carefully. "It would be representative, for one thing. A perfect government is one that serves the governed, so people would need a voice. Wait – are we talking about humans or vampires?"

"Vampires. Of course."

"Right. Well, um... it would be heavy on individual responsibility, but provide for laws that ensured equity and justice."

"That's all very nice," he said, with a condescending edge to his tone, "but what I was more trying to ask is, what would the leadership structure be like? A dictatorship? A straight democracy? A triumvirate?"

I was beginning to see where this was going, and it made me uncomfortable.

"I don't really know... I guess a combination of the three," I said, trying to avoid talking myself into a corner, as we came at last to a large, round room that was furnished like a post-modern lounge. "It would all depend on who's leading. If you could have one person lead it who would be absolutely fair and impartial, then that would be the best, but since nobody's fair, I don't know... maybe a rotation, or something."

He gestured for me to have a seat across from him in a circular leather chair, leaning across the gap between us slightly as he presented his next idea.

"Wouldn't it be great if someone could lead that way? Free from the restraints of tradition, able to adjust to the changing needs of the vampire world?"

"Uh, sure... I guess. But I think the Volturi are pretty set in their ways. Even if you wanted to get them to change..."

"What if they were taken out of the equation?" He asked, lacing his fingers together and looking at me with narrowed eyes.

"Wait – are you saying what I think you're saying? 'Cause if you are-"

"The Volturi have had their time," he interrupted, "they have proven their usefulness. I respect them for that. They've accomplished much. They're out of touch with the changing society, though. Their archaic ways are like fetters around the feet of the young and talented, such as yourself."

"I don't understand – what is it about them that's so old-fashioned?"

"Their very core – their one law. The requirement that we hide our true nature from the world."

"You have a problem with that?"

"Absolutely! As should you. Think about it, Coraline. We are a superior race. Immortal. Beautiful. Fully beyond human ability in every way. We are gods among peasants, and yet, we cower in fear, hiding from these slugs with skeletons as if we were lepers. Don't you ever grow tired of the shame and secrecy?"

"Yeah – I get tired of hiding sometimes. We all do. It's the only way we can keep human society intact, though."

"And why should we give a damn about human society? Why should we strive to walk among the humans? Why should we place their culture on a pedestal, as if it was somehow superior to ours, when ours far surpasses theirs in every way? Imagine a world where vampires were free to live in openness, unashamed of their true nature. Imagine a life where the servile human race revered you as the deity you are, where they made statues of your image in their streets, and wrote songs about your ravishing beauty."

"I knew you thought a lot of yourself, but you've really gone off the deep end this time."

"No, I'm very much grounded in reality. Let me show you something," he said, standing and leading me out of the room, down a wide hallway, and into a small cube-shaped room with a cylindrical column in the middle. He pressed a button, and a 3-dimensional holographic image appeared, floating above the column.

"I give you Olympus," he said with obvious pride in his voice.

"What is it?" I asked, looking over the disc-shaped object.

"The new cultural center of the world. A radiant crystalline city of the gods, floating high above the clouds in perpetual sunlight." He waved his hand and spun the image around, zooming in on different areas as he continued talking. "This will be the new home for the vampire race. A city of palaces befitting our nature. It will be completely suspended in the air, separate from the filth of the human existence. This is our future."

"Okay, first of all... I thought you didn't want to hide from humans anymore. And second, how is a city like this even possible?"

"Coraline, my dear, you think in such simple terms. We won't be hiding from the humans, we'll be ruling them. Every human alive will know of our existence and revere us as their rulers. And the city is quite possible, I assure you. Through a combination of a few newly-created materials and fuel provided from the servantile humans, it will remain suspended in the air forever – all fifteen square miles of it. Olympus will be a perfect place – a beautiful place, with every cultural element needed to live in peace and fulfillment forever. You would never have reason to step foot on the earth again."

"And what about blood? How would you survive up there?"

"Human sacrifices. All deities demand them. Through various religions, humans have been preconditioned to accept them for thousands of years. In response to our greatness and benevolence to the humans for allowing them to live on our earth, we will demand a number of daily human sacrifices to be delivered to us."

"And what if they resist? Humans are stubborn and rebellious by nature."

"If they refuse, we'll take the sacrifices by force, and then we'll administer just punishment to see to it that they don't rebel again. It's a workable model, Coraline. We've already begun preliminary construction, and we've tested numerous prototypes. It will work."

"This is a dream world, Philippe. No one will go for it. Not the vampire population, not the humans, and definitely not the Volturi."

"They will accept it," he replied with cold, subdued anger. "They won't be given the choice."

"You can't just force-feed the Volturi an idea like this!" I said, getting a little more passionate in my reply than I expected to. "They're the _Volturi_. They've been in power forever because no one can stand up to them."

"They're powerful, yes. But I'm powerful, too. More than they know. More than you know. Come, let me give you a taste of revolutionary power."

He shut the hologram down and led me down another hallway, where room after room was filled with human and vampire test subjects undergoing various experiments. It was more than a little unsettling.

"The vampire world has been living in blind ignorance of their nature for thousands of years," he said, as he continued to lead me down the maze-like halls. "No one strove to understand the inner working of things, satisfied to leave vampire nature as a mystical unknown. I have brought scientific discovery to our dark ages." He stopped in front of one of the rooms, continuing his speech. "I've been coordinating a comprehensive program of experimentation on humans and vampires since the nineteen-forties. My colleagues and I have studied every in-and-out of both races, noting their similarities and differences, their strengths and weaknesses. What we've learned has given us a formidable advantage on the established power in our world. Here, let me give you an example."

He led me through the door behind him into a small room, where a young vampire girl sat on a metal chair, perfectly motionless.

"When you go without blood for, say, a week, you get terribly thirsty. Do you know what happens when a vampire goes for thirty years without drinking?" He asked, with a sinister grin tweaking the corner of his mouth. "This," he said, answering his own question as he slapped the girl in the face. She didn't budge. "Peggy, here, was one of our early test subjects in blood deprivation. What we found was that after six or seven years, her cells began to slow down, until finally, she went into complete hibernation – a statue, if you will."

"That's cruel," I said, disgusted. "I suppose you didn't give her a choice, either."

"Some might find it cruel," he replied nonchalantly. "I find it fascinating. Do you know what we learned from little Peggy? We learned that vampires are living organisms, just like the rest of the world. We have our own set of rules and biological processes, many of which can be bent to my advantage. Let me show you something else," he said, leading me out of the room. I lingered on Peggy's frozen face for a moment, as my stomach turned. She couldn't have been more than fourteen years old – probably a runaway or an orphan during the second World War. The poor thing never had a chance – experimented on like she was a lab rat, enduring torture, all to satisfy Philippe's scientific curiosity. My heart broke for her and all the others like her who filled the hallways in this twisted laboratory. At the same time, I felt fear – fear that I'd end up like her if I didn't play my cards right. It was that fear that caused me to follow Philippe for more of his macabre tour.

The next room he took me to was a lot bigger than the last few, with large, metallic bins lined up in rows all across it.

"This is where we keep the teeth," he said, walking to one of the bins and grabbing a handful of incisors. He let them cascade back into the bin through his fingers as he continued. "Hundreds of thousands of them. You remember Mbete's ax, don't you? I could make hundreds of them now. How's_ that_ for power?"

I looked over the 4-foot-high bins for a moment. "Where did you get all these?"

"Donors," he said casually. "Humans breed fairly quickly, given the right circumstances. We've been stocking up on teeth for years."

"But those aren't human teeth."

"And your point is..."

"You killed vampires for these. The same 'superior race' that you are. Shouldn't that seem wrong to you?"

"O, come, Coraline! Don't be so simplistic. The poor brutes were killed as soon as their tissues transitioned. Most of them never even woke up from the change. I'd hardly qualify them as vampires. Besides, I didn't kill them _just _for their teeth."

He took me into the room next door, which was filled with similar bins.

"These are for transplants," he said, opening one of the bins to display an assortment of index fingers. "Everyone knows that vampires can't regrow lost tissue, but they can assimilate pieces from other vampires."

"Let me guess – donors?" I asked coldly.

"Waste not, want not. Teeth are valuable, but it would have been a terrible shame to throw away the rest of the bodies. We've found a use for all sorts of things, from eyes to hair to tongues."

"And what about the thousands of people you've killed?" I asked, appalled at his indifference. "Don't you feel even a little remorse?"

"Why should I?" He answered arrogantly. "I harvested organs from humans, the same way they harvest wood or stone from their world. That's what they're here for – to provide us with resources."

"Don't you remember that you were a human once upon a time? How are you all of a sudden so much better than these that you changed just to harvest?"

"Oh, but I_ am_ so much better," he retorted. "Better than they are, better than the Volturi. Have a look at something else I've devised."

He led me back through several of the experimental hallways, to another wing of the compound, where a large, intimidating vampire was laying on a metal table, with wires attached to his arms.

"Do you know why newborn vampires are so much more powerful than experienced ones?" He asked, as we looked at the vampire on the table.

"Because their body is still filled with blood from their human days, right?"

"Correct. And why can't veteran vampires get that much blood?"

"Um... I don't know – because we can't drink enough?"

"Precisely. A stomach can only process so much blood at once. But what if you could bypass the stomach? What if you could administer blood intravenously?" He gestured to the wires in the vampire's arms. "When this brute is finished, he'll be as strong as a newborn, but with all the self-control and fighting technique of a seasoned veteran."

"How is that possible?"

"All it takes is a little incision in the right place and a handful of proper tubes. And a thorough understanding of anatomy, of course. Imagine... an army of newborn-strong killers, bred and trained for the sole purpose of overthrowing the established power and ushering in a new era of dominance for the true vampire race. No one will be able to stand against us."

"No, you're wrong. Even with fighters like this, you won't be a match for the Volturi. They have Jane and Alec. And Aro, of course. As soon as he catches wind of what you're doing here, you're finished."

"Let them keep Jane and Alec," he said, unimpressed. "I have thirty-one fighters right now – twelve of them specials. They will walk all over the Volturi Guard."

"How? Aren't you afraid that Aro will find out, or that Demetri will see them?"

"I have ways of working around Aro. He's not as all-knowing as he thinks he is. And as for Demetri, his vision has its limits. I have two full-size facilities – this one, and a larger one in Chile – that are completely invisible to him. They're built right over substantial magnetic anomalies – the same kind of loopholes that the Sons of Alphaeus have been using to hide from him for centuries. They'll never see us coming. Oh, and the thirty-one soldiers – they're just for intimidation. I have one superpower who's so formidable, the Volturi themselves will tremble in fear at the thought of him. I just need to get a few more pieces in place, and he'll be ready – an angel of destruction, with power beyond their imagination. We will sweep them away like dust."

"No, you're going to get yourself killed, Philippe. Aro's going to find out one way or another, and your head will be on the chopping block, along with everyone in this building. Why are you even telling me this?"

"Because I want you to join me. When the new regime begins, I will be the most powerful creature in the universe. I want you to reign with me as my queen. You'll have every delicacy your heart could desire. Power, fame, adoration, absolute security."

"You've got to be kidding."

"I think you know I'm quite serious."

"Yeah, well I think you're quite suicidal. There's no way I'm going along with this."

"Don't be so quick to judge, Coraline. The offer I'm making you is not one to take lightly. The entire balance of world power will soon be shifting radically. You wouldn't want to be caught on the wrong side when everything falls into place."

"Is that a threat?"

"It's a reminder of how good a deal I'm offering you."

"First lady to a cruel dictator? Forget it. I'm not interested."

"Am I any more cruel than the Volturi? Than the Romanians? Power changes hands by force. Like it or not, that's the way of the world."

"Enslaving humans, breeding them for supplies like cattle? That's way over the line."

"Oh, for god's sake, Coraline! They're humans! Weak, decaying hairless apes. Don't act so self-righteous. You've killed countless 'innocent' people to sustain your own life. I just use them for more comprehensive purposes."

"Your use of them is disgusting, and so is your offer," I said finally, getting right up in his face. "There's no way I'm taking it."

He frowned and sighed heavily, speaking in a cold, emotionless tone.

"That's quite disappointing. I had hoped that you would have at least considered it, especially since I brought you all the way down here." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone, tapping a button on it. "Normally, refusal of this sort of thing ends very badly, but given our history together, I'm willing to give you a chance to reconsider."

"I won't change my mind," I said defiantly. He'd just have to kill me. I wouldn't play a part in this.

"Oh, I think you will," he said with a slight smirk reappearing on his mouth. Elliot Pinter stepped into the room behind him, accompanied by two large guards. He looked different – darker, more sullen. His eyes were different, too. Instead of their usual red, they were glowing with a sick yellow, and not just the irises. The whites, the pupils, everything was lit up like glowing hot metal. I don't spook easily, but this was a whole new level of creepy. I was at a loss for words, trying to back slowly away, though I knew there was nowhere to go. My instincts took over, and I started to leap to one side and try to force my way past Elliot and his guards, but an odd, cold numbness took me before I could move three inches, moving my body back into place like someone had a remote control for my limbs.

"Don't fight this, Coraline," Philippe said casually, as Elliot glided closer, eyes still aglow. "It goes along much more easily if you relax."

I ignored his advice, trying with all my strength to run, but I couldn't get anywhere. There was a tightness around my arms and legs – a stiffness, like a locked-up joint. Elliot closed the remaining space between us and put his hands on either side of my head, thumbs to my temples. At first, I thought he was coming to tear my head off, but he didn't strain, he just kept his thumbs there. And then, all of a sudden, I felt an intense disorientation, like my equilibrium was completely thrown off. My eyes started twitching, and I got a quivering feeling in my head, along with a searing hot pain. Then, just as suddenly as the sensations began, they left, and I was weightless, thoughtless; floating in limbo, as if the whole experience had been a strange dream that was growing more blurry and distant with every passing second.

The memory ended, and I was back in the present, sitting in the car, as Grant and Edward shared concerned expressions.

"Did you see that?" I asked Edward, flashing back over portions of the memory again in my head.

"It's worse than I thought," he said gravely. "When did this happen?"

"Nineteen ninety-three," I replied.

"If he had thirty soldiers in ninety-three..."

"There's no telling how powerful he is by now," Grant added, finishing Edward's sentence. "Especially now that he has weapons. He'll overrun the Volturi with ease."

"And hunt us down one by one," Edward said. "Unless we band together."

"He's already started hunting," I said, referring to the kill list. "I don't know the first two names on that list, but Pearl Whitman is a close friend of Harriet's. If she's dead, then it must have just happened recently; Harriet would have told me about it."

"There were others that have already been killed," Edward said. "At least ten of them, and all in the last two weeks. I know several of the people on that list – I can try to get word to them, but there's no telling whether or not I'll be able to find them in time."

"Well one thing's clear," Grant said, taking the list in his hand. "We've no time to lose."

"Agreed," I replied. "The only question is who to contact first."

"I don't know about you two," Edward said, putting the car into gear, "but there are a few too many Cullens on that list for my taste. I'm going back to Forks."

"We'd better make some calls, tell whoever we can," I said, pulling out my pay-as-you-go phone and dialing Harriet's number. Warning my family wasn't as easy as taking a flight home. There was no home anymore. "I'll tell Wes and Harriet," I said to Grant, handing him another phone from Edward's satchel. "You call Harv and Lucy."

"And what about London?" he asked, a little flustered as he dialed the number without looking.

"That's all up to her. Let's just hope she checks in soon."


	27. Chapter 26

_26. WARNING_

- - - GRANT WILLOUGHBY - - -

There was an uncomfortable silence in the car as we made our way to a predetermined secure airstrip in Bulgaria, each of us lost in our own thoughts. I can't vouch for Edward or Coraline, but as for myself, those thoughts were frequently crossing the border from concern to worry. And not just whimsical worry, mind you – the sickening, nightmarish kind of worry. The kind where everyone you know and love may come to a violent death at any moment, and despite all your best efforts, you are utterly powerless to help them. We should have been making plans – we should have been scheming and strategizing and taking proactive action. That list of names had knocked the wind out of each of us, though, so we just sat there, listening to the subdued hum of the engine and the friction of the all-weather tires beneath us all the way to Bulgaria.

We parted ways with Edward at the airport – He flew to Washington, we traveled to Osaka, Japan, to meet up with our family and develop a plan. Harvey and Lucy got to the inconspicuous hotel room about six hours after we did, and before the first day in Japan was over, Lucy had contact with London, who happened to be in New Zealand at the time. It took her (and Zane) 18 hours to get to us, but it wasn't for a lack of rushing.

"I'm here," London said out of the blue the next evening as she burst on the scene, not bothering to knock. "How bad is it?"

"Nice to see you, too, sweetheart," Lucy said with an artificial smile denoting sarcasm.

London turned to me, ignoring Lucy's subtle request for pleasantries. "Dad, how bad is it? Are we safe here?"

"We're safe," I replied with calm, measured speech.

"Good," she sighed.

"It's quite bad, though."

"Crap. Mom said there was a 'kill list'..."

"It's incomplete," Coraline interjected, "but we know of at least twenty-four people Philippe's trying to have killed – probably in the next two to three weeks."

"Oh my god..." London said, staring off blankly. "I can't believe Zane and I missed something so huge. We may have already dropped the ball and let people die. Have they started on the list yet?"

"We're not sure how many have died so far, but the plan is already in action," I answered.

"Then I'm already too late," she said, eyebrows creasing in pain.

"Not for the rest of the names on the list," I said, as I pulled her into my chest, kissing her softly on the forehead. "You've been doing the very best you can. We all have."

"Obviously it's not good enough," she mumbled.

"Yes, it is. There's only so much we _can_ do."

Zane came in a moment later, apparently finished with his perimeter check. It was odd – for all the time he spent with London, he seemed to be on his own a lot.

"Hey, everyone," he said, walking into the room and dropping a large duffel on the bed. "So, what's the plan?"

"There are twenty-four names we know of on the list," Harvey answered, "including mine... and yours."

"Terrific," Zane said with rolled eyes.

"Edward went back to Forks to warn the Cullens. We already called Hawkins and Wesley."

"And the rest?"

"That's what we need London's help with. You said she can contact people she doesn't know now..."

"Well... sort-of," London interjected. "It doesn't always work right. I have to know something about them – more than a name. I don't know how much you can really count on it-"

"She can do it," Zane said, cutting her off. "Even without the extra input. She's amazing. Where's the list? We'll get right to work, right?"

London shrugged her shoulders. "I guess."

The two of them shut themselves off in one side of the suite, while the rest of us talked strategy. It was a heated discussion – there was ample tension in the room, and after an hour with little progress, I decided to take a break and check on London.

"How's it coming along, you two?" I asked, poking my head through the door.

"Slowly," London said with a heavy sigh.

"Have you been able to contact any of the targets yet?"

"No. Nothing yet," she replied, stroking her forehead as if to relieve the stress.

"Well... is there anything I can get to help you along? I know you're working as fast as you can, but-"

"Dad – it's not like flipping a switch, okay?" she snapped, obviously frustrated with something beyond my questions. "Imagine going into someone else's house with your eyes closed, and feeling around for a bowl of marbles. And then, imagine finding the marbles, and having to feel each one to find one that's just _slightly_ bigger than the others. That's what it's like trying to find these guys... only much more exhausting."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to rush you..."

"It's okay, I just... I'm trying, alright?"

"I know that, sweetheart. I'm sure you'll find them."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence. I'd better get back to work."

"Of course," I said, turning to address Zane. "Let me know if you need anything."

Coraline, Harvey and Lucy were still in a heated conversation when I came back in the room. I contented myself to sit on the sidelines and allow my mind to wander, trying to no avail to think of anything positive. Then, not fifteen minutes after I had last seen him, Zane came into the room, hints of a smile on his mouth.

"We got one," he said, his eyes flickering from face to face. "Corraine Theibault. Any of you know her?"

We all glanced at each other. He continued.

"Well, apparently, she and Piers have a long history. He tried to recruit her, she declined, and now she's hiding in Sudan."

"That's terrific!" I said "Can London get back in touch with her?"

"Sure. It's like adding a number to your cell phone. She can contact her whenever."

"Good, because we're going to want to bring her in as part of an organized resistance at some point."

"Yeah, well, before we do anything else, we need to get London something to eat. She's famished."

"Of course. She needs a break, anyway," I agreed.

"I'm gonna run out and grab some food," he said, heading for the door. "I'll be back in a while."

_Leaving again. I'm not so sure I like that idea..._

"Wait – I'll go with you," I said, grabbing my jacket. "I need to pick up a few things anyway."

He reluctantly went along with the idea, and the two of us went on a late-night run into downtown Osaka. A half hour later, we were in a taxi on our way back to the hotel with enough food to feed a family of ten.

"So, Zane... what exactly have you and London been doing for the last few months?" I asked, hoping to get a better feel for whether or not I could trust him.

"Gathering info on Philippe's forces, mostly. And getting in contact with some old friends."

"Are you spying in Volterra?"

"No way. It's too dangerous to get her close to there. I've been monitoring a couple of sleeper cells – one in Jakarta, the other in Tijuana, Mexico. I haven't gotten much from the Mexicans yet, but we intercepted a lot of chatter in Jakarta about an installation in the Atacama desert, on the west coast of South America. I've got some... _associates_ who are checking it out, probably as we speak."

"I'll bet that's the sister facility Coraline heard about – she had a sort of repressed memory Edward Cullen was able to access a few days ago-"

"Which is how you found the kill list, right?"

"Right. Well, not exactly, but we learned that at the same time. Philippe actually took her to a facility in Greenland, and talked about a similar place in the desert."

"Well, the place in Greenland closed a few years ago, but as far as the Atacama thing, it sounds like my boys are on the right trail."

"So who are these 'associates' of yours? Are you sure they can be trusted?"

"They're just as trustworthy as these kill-list people you're contacting," he said defensively. "Trust me – nobody cares more about London's safety than I do."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," I said, my tone shifting to that of a protective father. "How do you know one of these men isn't going to sell you out to Philippe?"

"I know my men," he said firmly. "And besides that, we've got a guy on the inside. So far, he's been able to corroborate every piece of information we've gathered."

"Really? Who is he?"

"It's a sensitive subject. I'd rather not say."

_You're damn right it's a sensitive subject, mister._

"I'd rather you do. I need to know who I can trust."

"Fine," he said begrudgingly. "But you have to keep this an absolute secret. I mean, you can't tell _anyone_. If someone were to find out, and it got leaked, my informant would be dead, and they'd probably torture him until he gave up our numbers and position."

"I understand," I said. "My lips are sealed. Who is it?"

"Edgar."

"London's father?"

"I know what you're thinking, but he's not the bad guy here. He was just going along with Philippe earlier because he thought it would keep her safe. Now that he sees that's not possible, he's willing to help us take Philippe down."

"What do you mean, 'that's not possible?' I thought Philippe wanted to recruit her."

"He wants to take her and feed her to his trump card, Elliot."

"He wants to _feed_ her to him?"

"Not literally. I don't know exactly how it works, but somehow, Elliot can gain abilities from other vampires. That's why Philippe's been so keen on collecting them lately. The thing is, most of them are never seen again. He'd probably just get what he wanted out of London, and then kill her. Edgar is obviously not okay with that idea."

"That makes sense... what if Philippe finds out, though?"

"We're just going to have to take that risk. London has been connecting with him periodically, listening in on conversations with Philippe's men."

"And you're sure it's safe?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Sooner or later, you're gonna have to trust me. We're on the same team, here, okay? I know what I'm doing. You let me do my job, and I'll let you do yours."

Neither of us said another word the rest of the way back.

London was in our side of the suite when I returned, and from the looks of things, she was deeply troubled. Lucy and Coraline were sitting next to her, consoling her somewhat. Harvey met us at the door to brief us on the situation.

"We lost one. Well, two, actually. I think it was two."

"What do you mean?" I asked, concerned more for my daughter than these two that were 'lost.' "Is she alright?"

"She's fine, just shaken up a bit," he answered.

"What happened?" Zane asked, peeking around my shoulder and through the narrow opening in the door to see for himself that London was alright.

"London was going down the list, warning people. When she got to this Irish couple, everything sort-of blew up. From what I understand, she was just-"

"I'll tell them," London said, interrupting Harvey from her seat on the bed. "It's easier that way."

Zane and I came into the room, standing across from her as she told her story.

"So, I had some luck while you were gone. I got a hold of Garret Wythe, and Peter and Charlotte, too. The next one I tried was Makenna Brunley, and she was actually pretty easy to find. I had just started a good, solid connection with her, when I saw someone break into the room where she and her husband – Charles – were staying. It was the man with the yellow eyes..."

She started to get emotional as soon as she mentioned the man from her dreams. We gave her a moment, and she continued.

"He broke in through the wall. Charles didn't even fight back. He just froze, like he was paralyzed. Makenna couldn't move, either. The man with the yellow eyes walked over to Charles and punched a hole through his chest. I don't know if it was something on his hand, or what, but... Charles just started disintegrating from that hole, like he was burning up, but there was no fire. And then he came over to Makenna, and told her 'you picked the wrong side this time,' and then he did the same thing to her. I could hear her screaming... I saw as she fell to the floor, watching the remains of her husband burn to dust... right in front of her..."

By this time she had tears running down both cheeks. I traded places with Lucy, sitting on the bed next to London and stroking her back gently.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, London. Why don't you take a break and have something to eat-"

"No, I need to get back to work," she interrupted, stifling her tears for a moment. "There are still so many names on the list..."

"It's alright. We'll get to them," Lucy said. "You need to rest for a while."

"I can't!" London snapped back, already emotional from the images of burning vampires in her head. "The yellow-eyed one is still out there. Every second I spend here is a second closer to him killing someone else. I can't stop."

"London, honey, you're just one person. You've already done more than anyone could have asked for," Lucy said, stooping to look her in the eyes. "As soon as you've rested, you can get right back to the list, if you want."

London reluctantly nodded, sniffing and wiping the remaining tears from her eyes. Lucy and Coraline went with her into the other suite to get something to eat, while Harvey, Zane and I stepped outside to speak in private.

"The man London saw kill those other two – that was Elliot," Harvey said gravely as we walked along a dark sidewalk near the hotel.

"If that's true, then he's even stronger than we thought," Zane said, a hint of fear in his voice. "We're gonna have to do something soon. If he keeps growing at this rate, there won't be any way to stop him."

"How do suggest we do that?" I asked. "Put together a team of assassins? I could call Hawkins..."

"Not until we know a little more. Otherwise, we'd just be walking into a trap. If this guy is as strong as he seems, we're gonna need a plan... and a lot of help."

"Well, for the time being, London is our best chance to secure more help," I said. "We've got to keep her spirits up. She can't have a breakdown over this."

"Agreed," Zane replied. "But on the other hand, we don't have any time to waste. She should eat and sleep, yes, but as soon as she's rested, we've got to get her back to work. I'd suggest we start prioritizing the list, instead of going from top to bottom. Nothing against the Brunleys, but some lives are worth more to our cause than others. London should have been contacting Zafrina, or Benjamin. Or... Hermes. We should definitely start with him, as soon as she's well. His power isn't that great, but his knowledge is invaluable."

"Let's get her some sleep first, then we'll worry about priorities," Harvey said dryly. He wasn't any happier about Zane being here than I was.

London picked at her food like a bird and slept for five restless hours before resuming her search. Since we had more information on Hermes than most of the other names on the list, she was able to pin down a connection with him rather easily. The problem was, she couldn't see or hear anything from him. After 45 frustrating minutes, she came into our side of the suite, heaving an angry sigh and plopping down on the bed.

"It's hopeless," she said. "I don't know what it is about him, but I can't see a single thing. There's something weird going on in his head. I don't know what else to try. I can't..."

"That's alright," Coraline said. "Just move on to the next name on the list."

"But he's our_ top priority_. We have to reach him."

"_We_ have to reach him," I said, the wheels in my head spinning as I spoke. "But _you_ don't. Unlike most of the others, we actually know where Hermes is."

"You want to warn him in person?" Coraline asked, a tone of disapproval in her voice. "In _Dubai_?"

"Zane's right about him," I replied. "He's a top priority. London is most effective searching others out. I'll go to Dubai and extract Hermes, you all can keep working on the others."

"Well, you're not going by yourself," Harvey said, standing up and grabbing his jacket. "I'll go with you."

"Deal. Let's get moving," I said, not wanting to waste any more time entertaining arguments. "I'll call you as soon as we have him in our custody."

I made eye contact with Coraline as I moved toward the door, covertly motioning to her that I wanted to speak to her outside the room. She picked up on it beautifully, saying something to the others about walking me out, and once we were out of hearing range, we spoke briefly.

"I don't think going to Dubai is a good idea," she said, her tone more pleading than I was accustomed to. "You'll be too exposed there. And there's always the chance that someone will follow you back to us..."

"I won't let them follow me. Trust me, I've been doing this a long time."

"I do trust you," she said, her expression adopting a hint of indignation at my cavalier response. "But I know Elliot a lot better than you do. He's deadly on an entirely different level."

"That's why we have to get to Hermes first," I said. "I'll be gone less than forty-eight hours. And while I'm away, I'd like you to keep an eye on Zane for me."

"Zane? Why?"

"Because I don't trust him. All this information he's gathering – it seems too convenient. And I get the feeling that he's keeping everything about himself deliberately vague around me. You've got the skills – put him under the microscope and make sure he's a trustworthy ally."

"I'm pretty sure he's fine, Grant. I would have noticed."

"Well, do me a favor and double-check, will you? It would ease my mind a bit."

"What would ease my mind is if you would forget about him and focus on not getting killed in Dubai."

"I'll try. Call you when I'm on the other side."

I gave her a brief kiss on the forehead and sped off with Harvey, hoping we weren't already too late.

Due to the urgent nature of our visit, Harvey and I risked a commercial flight from Osaka to Delhi, and chartered a private flight via some old Hawkins & Company connections directly into Dubai. It was early evening when we arrived, but the city was far too crowded to move around on foot, so we took a taxi from the small, private airfield to Hermes' office complex.

The past fifteen years had obviously treated him well – Hermes' new accommodations were far beyond luxury. His office was situated on the top floor of one of the tallest buildings in what was fast becoming the highest skyline on the continent. Security was no doubt stepped up as well – getting to him covertly would require a little creativity.

We had the taxi drop us off a few blocks from the building, and snuck around to the back on foot. Even after business hours, there were far too many human bodies in the area, which effectively masked the scent of any nearby vampires. Since we weren't too keen on taking unnecessary risks, Harvey and I bypassed the lobby altogether, breaking in through a maintenance entrance and scaling one of the elevator shafts to the top floor. Once we were at the top, scents were a lot clearer, and we could get an idea of what we were up against. There was one human receptionist in the modern, minimalist foyer – I slowed the airflow to her brain just enough to render her unconscious, and we continued toward what appeared to be Hermes' office. There was a vampire standing guard in front of the rich, solid mahogany double doors to Hermes' room – a large, burly fellow with no hair. I cut the impulses to his arms, Harvey broke his neck, and we walked right in.

"The Willoughby brothers," Hermes said flatly, his back turned to us, as we crossed the wood and marble paradise he resided in. "Tell me now, boys – have you come to kill me? I don't have any aspirations of putting up a fight. Just do an old man a favor, and make it quick."

Apparently he had some idea of what was going on.

"We're not here to kill you, we're here to rescue you," I replied, stopping about six feet from him.

He turned around, a surprisingly muted sense of relief on his face.

"Oh. Well, in that case – it's good to see you! I do hope you brought friends."

"No friends this time – it's just us," Harvey said. "We need to move you out of here as soon as possible. How quickly can you leave?"

"I can be gone in five minutes," he replied casually, "but it won't do much good. Theodore turned on me. He's given over my location, my travel routes, everything. Why do you think I'm still here? Running will only delay the inevitable."

"Let us worry about the travel routes," Harvey said impatiently, "you just get your things together."

"Alright, I'll try it your way," Hermes responded, walking over to a computer and typing something onto a sleek, glossy black pad. "I'd rather not die, all things being equal."

"Has someone already come after you?" I asked, as he continued typing away.

"No, but I've got an old friend in Volterra that called me a half an hour ago, and said there were six men on their way over here to kill me. You wouldn't happen to know what that's about, would you?"

"It's Philippe. He's planning a coup, and he's trying to eliminate as much resistance as possible beforehand."

"Hmph! Should've known it would be him. Kid's got way too much ambition to fit inside one head. I suppose he's got Elliot helping him too, eh?"

"Yes, actually."

"Well, let's just hope he's off killing someone else today."

"Why's that?" I asked, a cold chill sneaking up my spine.

"Because if he's one of the six, then we're all dead." He turned to me with a cocked-head smile, zipping up a satchel in his lap. "Okay. I'm ready when you are."

We kept him close to us as we walked back through the large wooden doors, stepping over the security guard as we went. Before we got ten paces down the hall, Hermes stopped, shushing us and holding his hands out.

"You smell that, boys?" He asked, his eyes narrowing and darting back and forth.

"Smell what?" I asked.

"We've got company," Harvey said. "I think they're in the elevator."

"I take it you don't recognize these scents," I said to Hermes, as I scanned the area for another way out. I could smell what they were speaking of now – it was growing stronger by the second. At least three discernible aromas, possibly four.

"Nope," he replied simply. "Good news – Elliot isn't one of 'em. Bad news is, I think we're outnumbered." He nodded his head in the direction of the fallen security guard. "Better put Gregor's neck back together. We could probably use his help about now."

While Harvey worked on reassembling Gregor, I worked on finding another way out of the building.

"Are there any other elevators to this floor?" I asked Hermes in a hurry. "Perhaps a maintenance lift?"

"Nope," he answered. "It's just those two main elevators. If they've got any sense, they'll have men in both."

"What about a ventilation shaft? Anything we could crawl through?"

"No, nothing. That's why I liked this suite – it's not easily accessed."

"Well, that's going to be a problem in about twelve seconds," I said, frustrated, as I took a few steps toward the elevators. "Harvey – I'm going to need a hand over here..."

"Almost done," he replied without looking up.

"Let Hermes finish it. The first elevator's almost here.

Harvey was at my side in a flash, and we got into position, one on either side of the wide hallway.

"How do you wanna take these?" he asked in a whisper, eyes fixed on the door.

"I'll slow them down. You incapacitate them."

"Works for me," he replied, creeping a little closer.

I heard the smooth elevator mechanism slow to a halt, and got my mind ready for some quick analyzing. It had been a while since I had used my skills in combat, and an even longer while since I was afforded the benefit of a little preparation.

Apparently, I still had it.

The chime rang as the first elevator doors opened, and I went to work. The first of the two men that came out was a tall, lanky fellow. I had him mapped out in a flash. A hard pinch to the lower spine, and he stumbled to the ground, right into Harvey's arms. A quick twist and tug, and his head was dislodged from his body. I had to engage the second combatant before I could map his nervous system, but he wasn't an especially skilled fighter. He jumped at me, which was mistake number one – you never leave your feet, unless you just want to give up leverage. I ducked and caught his leg from underneath, spinning around and slamming him through a wall. I even managed to apply enough side pressure on his knee to break it in the process. It was a good start.

Harvey came over to help with the second one, kicking his head so hard that his left eye socket caved in. A burst of gunfire sprayed from the weapon in his hand – an automatic version of the pistol I had seen Philippe wield. We dodged the bullets, and began pulling him apart, but in the process, lost track of the vampires on the second elevator, who were now well aware of the resistance going on in the hallway. Three vampires rushed across the hall, causing us to react without a plan. One of them grabbed Harvey from behind, looking for a quick kill-shot, but Harvey slipped out of it, and I got in the way of the other two for long enough to let him get a better fighting position. By this time, Hermes' security guard, Gregor, was in the fray. Unfortunately, he wasn't much help, other than as a distraction.

And a warning.

He got into a bad position in front of a short, stocky one, who landed a punch to the back of his head. Gregor was easily a hundred pounds heavier than the attacker, but he fell to the ground, useless, as his head shattered like a bowl on a kitchen floor.

This guy was strong. Newborn strong.

Harvey's eyes widened as he turned to see Gregor get pulverized. I caught his glance for a microsecond, and we both had the same thought – run and reposition. We both burst through one of the side walls of the hallway, moving through a room full of computers and into a small, heavily-cooled room where several computer server racks were whirring. The tactic worked well enough – all three attackers followed us, firing a few bullets blindly through the walls and missing us by a wide margin.

The stocky one was the first to come into the room after us, and this time, I was ready for him. I numbed his left arm as he stretched it out to shoot me, grabbed it at the wrist, and broke it completely off. A solid kick to the midsection sent him back into the computer room momentarily, which evened up the odds. While Harvey dodged a few ill-placed grapple attempts from the medium-sized attacker, I went to grab the gun that the stout one dropped. The largest attacker was quick, though, and reached me before I could get to it. My plan was to employ a similar numb-and-grab tactic on him, but I didn't get the numb part in time, so I was the one who got grabbed. The brute shoved me with relative ease through the server wall, which I learned was the exterior wall of the building. In a sudden rush of lights and sounds, I found myself on the outside of the building, hanging onto a broken steel stud jutting out from the hole I had created in the wall. Fortunately, I thought quickly, and had the wherewithal to reach out and catch the villain's heel before he got back to Harvey. With a great heave, I pulled him through the hole, messing with his sense of equilibrium, as I swung him around and sent him plummeting several hundred feet to the street below.

When I got back inside, Harvey was in a standoff with the medium-sized one. I cut the feeling from his arms, and we double-teamed him, taking the arms off and twisting his head around backward.

"Where's the short one?" I asked, as soon as we had the second attacker neutralized.

"He never came back," Harvey answered.

"Damn! Hermes!" I half-shouted, bolting back through the computer room and into the hall. I was surprised to see Hermes still there – and in one piece.

"He went back down," Hermes said, answering my question before I had a chance to ask it. "I don't think he's running, though."

"I'm sure he's not," I replied. "They'll regroup and hit us again. We need to leave."

"Great. How?"

"On the outside of the building," I answered, leading him back through the computer room and to the the hole in the exterior wall. I picked up the two loose weapons left behind by the attackers on the way, and tossed one to Harvey.

"How's this going to work?" he asked, as he looked through the hole, more uncertain than skeptical.

"We jump, staying as close to the wall as possible. Free-fall for thirty stories, or so, and then make our way back inside. We can take the stairs from there."

"Okay... how do we stop the free-fall?"

"Just punch your arm through. Might hurt a bit, but it should work."

"I'm game if you are," Hermes said, stepping toward the hole. "Who's first?"

"I'll go first," I said, climbing out the hole feet-first and hanging from the side. "Try and use the hole I make, if you can."

I let go, and let gravity take its course. I tried to count floors as the building rushed by, faster and faster, but it was too much effort, with the rest of the things I was concentrating on. After what felt like a good amount of time, I reached back and punched my fist through a large plate window. It was hard to get much force behind it, since I had nothing to anchor the rest of my body to, and my arm ended up sliding all the way down the window frame and catching on the steel grid of the floor underneath it. A quick glance down revealed that I had waited too long – I was no more than fifty feet from the ground, which was now a mess of traffic, most likely due to the man I threw down from the top floor. I climbed in and signaled back to Hermes, who jumped next. I was able to reach out and catch him and Harvey, and once we were all inside, we headed for the nearest stairwell.

We were in luck – the stairwell was empty, except for an elderly man gripping onto the handrail. We blew by him so quickly there was no way he would have known what passed him. Once we were near the bottom, Hermes took the lead.

"We don't want to go to the ground floor," he said, coming to a stop at the fifth floor landing. "They're probably waiting for us there. I've got a better idea."

He led us down two dark hallways and through a huge glass wall, behind which there were a handful of exotic cars on display.

"This is my buddy's private collection," he said, as we raced through the showroom, alarms blaring above us. "He's got a car elevator in the back."

We burst through the thick steel door of the car lift, and dropped seven or eight stories down the shaft, where we broke our way out into a brightly-lit parking garage. Hermes came to a stop as we reached the glistening white room – unlike any parking garage I'd ever seen.

"Hmm... which one to take..." he muttered, stroking his chin. "Aww, why not? Let's take the Bugatti. If we're gonna die, we're gonna die in style."

He raced to the other side of the room, speaking to the car as he approached, and opening the door. It was a Veyron – among the fastest commercially-available cars in the world. If we hadn't been in such a hurry, I could have taken fifteen minutes just admiring it. We didn't have fifteen minutes to spare, though. We didn't have fifteen seconds.

"This one's a two-seater," he said, as we climbed inside the now-cramped cockpit. "Hope you boys don't mind."

"I don't care, as long as it's fast," Harvey said, climbing in the other door and practically sitting in my lap.

"Oh, it's fast enough," Hermes said, placing his thumb onto a pad on the dashboard. The gargantuan engine roared like a pride of lions, thrusting the car forward with impressive force as we ascended the ramps of the garage, leaving a rubber trail for seventy yards behind us. With a little creative driving, we were soon out of the city and on our way to a rendezvous point in Yemen, where we handed Hermes off to Hawkins for protection. As soon as he was safely delivered, Harvey and I called to check in with the girls. I had a fresh idea from Hermes that I couldn't wait to share.

"You mean, like a video chat?" Coraline asked, still not quite getting my idea. I tried explaining a different way.

"Alright – imagine how it would work. You and I get on a computer in... say, Boston. The Cullens gather around their computer in Forks, Hawkins watches from Laos, and the Alaskan family links up in Anchorage. Now, each coven can log in to a secure site, where we all have a sort of live, round-table discussion. All in real time, all practically untraceable."

"Okay. So, will everyone have to get a computer with a camera on it?"

"No. I'll set it up so you could participate using text, if necessary. I could even engineer it to include cellular phone text messaging, if there was a need. The goal is to get everyone together-"

"Without physically being together," she interrupted, finishing my thought. "I get it. How long do you think it'll take you to set it up?"

"A couple hours, a Macbook, and a few phone calls, and we'll be ready to go."

"Good, 'cause it feels like things are speeding up. I'm afraid if we wait too long, we'll lose whatever advantage in numbers we may have."

"I'm fairly certain that's already lost," I said with a sigh, "but I agree that the earlier we get a plan, the better. Oh, and..." I lowered my voice, just in case. "what did you learn about Zane? Any red flags?"

"He's hardly been around. I haven't seen anything incriminating, though. I think you should drop it. We have plenty of other things to worry about. Like, staying alive, for starters. Be careful on your way here. Don't take any chances."

"I'll be careful. See you soon, love."

From Yemen, Harvey and I traveled to St. Petersburg, Russia, where we met up with Zane and the girls. Coraline had a fresh, new Macbook Pro waiting for me, and a broadband cable access line in the luxury hotel suite we shared. I wasted no time setting up the multi-line chat room, while London continued to work tirelessly on contacting endangered vampires. Before one full day had gone by, we had all the technology in place, and everyone possible contacted. The meeting was set for midnight St. Petersburg time, which was later than I wanted to go, but necessary to give the maximum amount of people the chance to participate. That is, if Elliot and his associates didn't get to them first.


	28. Chapter 27

_27. CONFERENCE_

"Are you absolutely sure this is safe?"

Tanya was the fourth person to ask me that question in the first two minutes of the meeting. I understood their concern, but still – after multiple reassurances, their lack of faith in me was insulting.

"Everyone, please – we have to move past the security topic, alright?" I said sternly, moving closer to the laptop's camera to emphasize my point. "It's perfectly safe. I guarantee it. Now, we need to get to the problem at hand before we run out of time."

There was an awkward moment of silence as everyone waited for somebody to step forward and start leading the conversation. I would have taken the initiative myself, but I was too busy keeping the whole thing afloat. The response was greater than I had hoped – all in all, there were sixteen covens present, representing nearly forty vampires, all joining together to form a resistance movement against Philippe's impending coup d'état. It was a good problem, but it was still a problem. Wesley took the floor and began by recapping the situation, as I worked to account for the extra attendees.

"Alright people, here's the thing in a nutshell – Philippe DeChevalier is planning a violent, comprehensive coup in Volterra. He's gonna overthrow the existing government, set himself up as the new ruling authority, and go public with vampirism. He's going to enslave the human race by force, and thin out the vampire population, which means that most of you will be killed or forcibly recruited. Now, I don't know all of you personally, but I know many of you well enough to believe you're not willing to just sit by and let this happen."

"How do you know all this?" Jasper's friend, Peter, asked, from his audio-only connection.

"He tried to recruit me, and I declined," Coraline answered.

"And he just let you walk away?" One of the Egyptians asked in a discrediting tone.

"He tried to have me killed, but I escaped," she replied matter-of-factly.

"You have to understand," Wesley added, "Philippe sees only two stances – either you support him, or you oppose him, which means he'll try to terminate you. There's no middle ground on this one."

The chat room erupted into cluttered conversational fragments, as a dozen or so people responded to Wesley's explanation in different ways. Eventually, it was Carlisle Cullen who pulled things back to order with a question.

"Friends, there's no escaping the situation. We are all in danger to some degree. The question is, what should our response be?"

"I vote we kill the bastard," Hawkins said, his coven of assassins nodding in agreement.

"That's what I'm talking about!" Emmett chimed in from the Cullen's up-link. "Let's snuff this punk out before he has the chance to do any more damage."

Several other people voiced their support. Ramona wasn't one of them.

"Hold on one minute, boys," she said, in her thick Brazilian accent. "Have you forgotten who we're talking about? Philippe is no commoner. He is more cunning and resourceful than you realize. And he has Elliot and a team of killers at his side. Fighting them is suicide. Our best chance of survival is to stay as far away from the conflict as possible."

"I agree," Alistair said on behalf of his Irish coven.

"We will find a place in whatever government is in power," Amun, one of the Egyptians, agreed. "Such things are not our concern."

"The hell they're not!" countered Garrett, a member of the Alaskan coven. "This guy is not just another ruling party. He's a despot. He'll turn your freedom to forced slavery. He'll ruin whatever 'life' you think you'll have. He's going to turn the whole power structure inside out, in a bad way."

"So we turn with it," Amun replied flatly.

"You don't get it," Garrett continued. "You are all part of this world. Like it or not, violence in Volterra will eventually reach Ireland, and Egypt, and Alaska. We're all connected. Sooner or later, it's going to come back to bite you. We must act! We must fight!"

"Throw away your own life if you wish," Ramona said. "I happen to like living."

She signed off, as did a 3-member Puerto Rican coven, which had been silent the whole time.

Garrett was incensed.

"I'd rather die _fighting _tyranny than_ running _from it. Kill Philippe before he can carry out his plan."

"That's more like it," Harvey agreed.

"Hooah! Let's do this," Emmett bellowed.

"I've been wanting to kill him for years," Hawkins added. "My gang's in."

"It's the best chance we have," Wesley spoke up.

"It's the only chance," Harvey clarified.

"I don't like it..." Carlisle said in a slow, measured pace, "but I fear it's our only viable option. My family and I are weary of fighting, but we have ample experience. We will pledge our help to the cause."

"As will ours," Tanya said.

Alistair's coven and two others backed out. All the rest of the coalition was on board, though, so we moved forward, planning a preemptive strike as soon as possible.

After the general plan was agreed to, the majority of the coalition members signed off, leaving the strategic details of the strike to a smaller leadership panel, including Jasper and Edward, Hawkins, Wesley, Zane, Harvey and myself (along with Coraline, who threw in her two-cents-worth on occasion). We detailed every minute nuance of our plan, debating the most efficient usage of our personnel for the strike, and scheduling all the events that needed to take place in order to carry it off.

After seven hours of discussion, we arrived at a consensus on what was essentially a two-phase attack. Intelligence from Zane (including Edgar) and Hawkins both confirmed that the Greenland facility Coraline had been to was deserted. Philippe's forces were now in two primary locations. The bulk of his army, as well as most (if not all) of the firearms were tucked away in an underground compound in the Atacama desert of South America. Philippe, Elliot, and the majority of his elite "specials" were operating out of an all-new wing of the Volturi's underground headquarters in Volterra. It was a daring, but brilliant move on Philippe's part.

Any large-scale frontal attack on Volterra would be defended primarily by the Volturi Guard, including the special twins Jane and Alec. Such an attack would not only prove costly to our coalition, but would play directly into Philippe's hands – weakening the Guard would only make his ascension to power that much easier. On the other hand, an attack only on the Atacama installation would weaken Philippe's forces, but leave the root problem unaffected. We all agreed that as soon as Philippe received word of the destruction of his off-site army, he would move forward with his plans to seize control of Volterra, which, if he were successful, would give him ample military strength to annihilate whatever remained of our fighting coalition in the wake of our battle in the desert. The best course of action that we could see was to divide our forces.

The bulk of our fighters would carry out a carefully-staged surprise attack on the Atacama facility, weakening Philippe's army as much as possible, and gathering incriminating evidence against him. Meanwhile, a small group of us would approach Volterra peacefully, (so as not to draw a defensive reaction from the Guard) but boldly, and with enough numbers to garner the attention of the Volturi. We would bring formal charges against Philippe, and with the freshly-provided intelligence from the Atacama group, we would have a convincing enough argument to condemn him, along with his men in Volterra. With any luck, the Guard would be used against him, and we could escape without fighting. Of course, this group would have a few of our own specials, in case things turned sour.

With regards to the timing of the operation, we elected to move at the earliest possible moment. Despite our best efforts to warn individuals on the "kill list," they were still dying daily. Additionally, the absence of Alec and Jane from the list meant that Philippe intended to recruit them, which would prove excessively difficult to overcome. We had to stop him before he swung the odds any further in his favor.

Since he had the most relevant experience, Jasper was elected to lead the assault on the Atacama facility. Hawkins was chosen to lead the Volterra group, which included Edward, Bella and Emmett Cullen, Coraline, myself, and Ramona, who (after receiving a lengthy phone call from Hawkins) agreed to go along with our group strictly as a non-combative support figure. All in all, we had 46 members of our coalition – 7 in Volterra and 39 in South America. It wasn't exactly an ideal army – most had little or no combat experience, and the few that possessed extraordinary abilities were not accustomed to using them in battle. A month's worth of training would have served us well, but we didn't have the time. We set our attack window for 48 hours from the end of the meeting, and began organizing transportation to get everyone to their respective staging areas in time to take part in the action. Everyone, that is, except London. She argued against her assignment all the way to the train station in St. Petersburg, where she was to board a train to Moscow, fly to Washington, and wait out the battle with Renesmee and the wolves in Forks.

"I'm not getting on," she said defiantly, as the boarding call chimed, indicating the immanence of the train's departure. Her small backpack landed with a pronounced "thud" on the wooden floor.

"It's not a discussion, London," I said, taking my stern, fatherly tone. "We've been over this. A vampire fight is no place for you."

"But I can still help," she rebutted, as if somehow presenting her argument again would elicit a different response.

"Whatever help you might provide would be offset by the attention you would draw from us," I countered, coming across more coldly than I had intended. Lucy smoothed my logic over.

"Honey, we care too much about you, and as much as you want to be, you're just not as... um, _durable_ as we are, and we can't put you in that kind of danger."

"You're all putting yourselves in ridiculous danger!" London said, raising her tone to a near shout. "You expect me to just get on a plane and fly back to Forks, knowing you might be getting torn to pieces at any minute? And knowing that I could have helped you, but I ran away?"

"What about Renesmee?" Coraline said, in an accusative tone. "She's _two_. Do you want to leave her all alone to try and deal with this kind of stress?"

"She has the wolves. And her grandfather."

"Yes, but none of them understand things the way you do. None of them understand her the way you do. Do it for her. Do it for us. Hell, do it for Zane. He was the one who pushed so hard for it in the first place."

I could see a crack in London's emotional wall at the mention of his name. Without meaning to (or, perhaps she did intend it), Coraline struck a nerve. London's eyes changed ever so slightly, colored by a deep-seated pain. There was a long, silent pause as she thought things over, trying her best to keep a poker face. Eventually, she yielded.

"Fine. But I'm checking in on you, and you can't block me out. I'm gonna be there, even if I'm on the plane."

"We wouldn't have it any other way," Harvey said, walking over to give her a hug goodbye. "Be safe. We'll come to Forks as soon as we possibly can."

Lucy and Coraline said their goodbye's next, which left me. The train conductor sounded the last call to board, and London glanced over her shoulder.

"Better be going," she said glumly. I pulled her to my chest.

"I hope you understand how deeply I love you, London," I said softly, taking every last second I could with her. I backed up slightly, cupping her chin in my hands and staring directly into her eyes. "No matter what happens, that will never change."

"I have to go, dad," she said uncomfortably, slipping away and boarding the train.

The four of us stood there silently, watching the train slowly pull out of the station and carry our daughter to safety. It was a somber mood, as we each coped with the nagging fear that gripped our hearts – the fear that we may have seen our little girl for the last time, the fear that the next eighteen hours would be our last. For me, though, it was more than that. My greatest fear, as I left with the family to meet up with Hawkins' private jet, was the look on London's face before she boarded the train. I knew that face all too well. It was the face that said "I know what you want me to do, but I'm going to do it my way as soon as you're out of sight." That look gave me constant worry, tearing at the pit of my stomach like an ulcer. I couldn't escape the feeling that she was going to get off of that train and do something reckless.

As it turns out, that's exactly what she planned to do.


	29. Chapter 28

_28. LIAR_

- - - LONDON WILLOUGHBY - - -

I loved my parents. Really, I did, but they were idiots. There was no way on God's green earth that I was gonna fly back to Forks and babysit _Nessie_ while they were getting shot to pieces, or burned alive, or... whatever that horrifying thing is that Elliot did to the Brunleys.

_Ick. Don't even want to think about that again._

I ran my options over and over as I sat all alone on the train from St. Petersburg to Moscow. Actually, I wasn't all alone. There was a businessman in the seat across the hall from mine that kept looking at me, staring at my legs like an iPod screen. It was a little creepy – he was, like, twice my age. At least.

_Why didn't you wear your jeans, genius? You really think you're gonna sneak into a vampire fight in a skirt? Sheesh! Where's your brain, London?_

Where I most wanted to be was on that helicopter to Volterra with my dad and Coraline. There was no way they were letting me anywhere near them, though, so I decided on the next best thing – I would do a little mental eavesdropping, follow the big group to the desert, and help them take out the army. It was a big enough group that I could slip at the last minute and make a difference. And of course, as an added bonus, the rest of my parental triumvirate would be there, as well as Zane.

_**Sigh** Why does love have to be so complicated?_

When Coraline said that about Zane not wanting me there, it sort-of blindsided me. Well, actually, that's not entirely true. I knew he wasn't committed to any _official_ feelings for me, but I had my hopes. I didn't expect him to want me on the front line of the fight – I knew better than that. I thought that he would at least want me around, though, to be a line of communication, or to be a distraction to the bad guys, or something useful. All the other couples were together – Edward and Bella, my dad and Coraline, Jasper and Alice... but Zane didn't even want me around. He wanted me in Forks, as far out of his hair as possible. Well, I had a newsflash for him. I'm not the kind of girl who's content to sit on the sidelines.

One of the many things Zane taught me during our time on the road together was how to use my ability more effectively. Most of the time, if I was careful, I could take a quick peek in through somebody's eyes and ears without them having any idea they were being spied on. It had to be short – maybe ten seconds or less – but it worked. Of course, I actually used it on him more than anybody else, but he didn't need to know that.

_He-he-he... sucker._

I leaned back in my seat on the train to Moscow, closed my eyes, and started looking in on people I knew were going to the desert. It took a few tries, but I finally found someone double-checking their plane ticket. It was a flight from Chicago to Atlanta, and based on the time it was set to land, there was a realistic chance I could make it back to the United States in time to catch up to it. I already had airfare to Washington state – Atlanta was a small detour, relatively speaking. I pulled out my cell phone, made a few calls, and got my flight out of New York changed from Seattle to Atlanta. I could figure out the rest when I got there.

The flight from Moscow to London was quick and easy, but the London airport was crazy busy – as in, wait-on-the-runway-for-almost-an-hour busy. I was so tense and nervous, it was all I could do not to break something. The lady in the seat next to me actually asked me to stop clicking my pen so she could get some sleep. That was all well and good for her, but me – I couldn't have slept if my life depended on it. For one thing, I was totally worried about my family getting turned to swiss cheese by vampire bullets, or something worse than that. And then, I had the Zane factor. I kept going through an imaginary conversation with him – me calling him out at last, him apologizing and promising to commit to the relationship that we both knew we were in. It all worked perfectly in my head. If only real life could be that coordinated.

My flight was just late enough arriving in New York that I missed my connection to Atlanta, and had to wait and hour and a half for the next available flight. I made the most of the time, and bought an ugly, but workable pair of jeans and sneakers from one of the stores in the main terminal.

_It's not a fashion show, London_, I reminded myself, as I zipped up the mom jeans and rolled up the legs above my bright white tennis shoes._ Zane's not even going to notice what you're wearing. _

Just like I was afraid of, I got to Atlanta a little too late, and missed a large shipment of vampires headed to Lima, Peru. Luckily for me, I had my own secure Mastercard, a contagious smile, and a little creativity. With the help of a slightly overweight airline clerk named Casey, I pieced together a route through Mexico City that would get me to Lima just a little over an hour behind the group. I made my connections this time, landed in Lima, and followed the group over the border into Chile. I was only a few miles away from the 15-passenger van I had been spying on when they came to a stop in the middle of nowhere, meeting up with a few other vehicles full of vampires. Apparently, I found the staging point for the attack.

I stopped my *borrowed* car a little ways out, and snuck in closer on foot. My group must have been the last to arrive – Jasper was going over a few last-minute details before everyone took off toward the bad guys. I was actually planning on listening to the mission briefing remotely and catching up with the group on the way, but I must have used one of my connections a little too long. I was so caught up with my other set of senses that I didn't even notice Zane coming over until he grabbed my arm and spun me around.

"London! What in the hell are you doing here?" He demanded in a hushed tone. His eyes were a mix of surprise and anger. I didn't like that look at all.

"I... came to help," I sputtered, caught off-guard by his demeanor. I was hoping for something a little friendlier.

"Help? My god, do you know what you've done? Alice is completely blind. She can see nothing, thanks to you. How long have you been following her?"

"Since Atlanta. Look, Zane-"

"Save it," he blurted, cutting off my attempt at getting the conversation back on the track I had imagined for it. The one where_ I _was upset and _he_ was explaining himself.

"You need to leave here now," he continued, staring me right in the eyes with his angry stare. "Get as far away as you can."

"I'm not leaving. I can still help you," I said with empty confidence. I may have been talking sternly, but inside, I was reeling. He didn't budge.

"Dammit, London! Do I have to put you in the car myself? Why can't you just listen to me?"

"Because, I..."

"You what?" he asked sharply, cocking his head sarcastically.

"I don't want to leave you," I said, as honestly as I could. It sounded sappy and pathetic, but it was the truth.

He grabbed me by the shoulders, moving within six inches of my face. "If you care about me at all, you'll get out of here before it's too late." He looked over his shoulder, noticing that Jasper was done giving his speech. People were starting to get into formations. "Please, for the love of god, London. Stay out of the way."

His words crushed me.

Crushed.

I couldn't even respond, I just nodded a little, and he left me standing there.

_Is it true? Have I been blocking Alice's visions? Of course it's true, stupid! God! What were you thinking? 'Oh, why would Zane not even want me around?' - because you're wrecking the plan, London!_

I was so mad and hurt and embarrassed, not to mention, guilty, that I didn't move. I was determined not to cry, but my eyes watered up anyway, as I watched the rest of the group take off, headed south toward a huge army of killer vampires.

_What difference did you really think you were going to make, anyway, huh?_ I asked myself, eventually walking back to the car and sitting inside. I still didn't have the motivation to turn it on, so I just sat. _You should have just listened. Zane's not even thinking about 'us,' he's just trying to stay alive. Ugh! Crap! I'm not going to cry. I'm not doing it._

I didn't. I just sat there, waiting for everyone I loved to live or die.

- - - CORALINE GRAY-WILLOUGHBY - - -

I kept looking down at the watch on my wrist, willing time to slow down just a little. I wasn't ready for this yet. Of course, that's not to say that I enjoyed being crammed in a military helicopter next to the most annoying anxious person in the entire world. I would have gladly endured Bella's fidgeting and constant worrying about Renesmee for hours – _days_ on end, before taking one step back into Volterra. "It'll be fine," everyone told me. "We got the easy job." _Yeah, well, you don't know Philippe like I do_, I replied to them in my head. _He's never been caught off guard before. What makes you think this time will be any different?_ I wasn't afraid to admit it – I was terrified of Elliot. I knew the sort of man he was before Philippe went _Frankenstein's Monster_ on him. I didn't even want to think of how scary he was now.

So I didn't.

The one saving grace of my seat on the helicopter was that Wesley was sitting on my other side. He was trying to stay preoccupied, too, since Harriet was about to go headfirst into a land war on the other side of the world. She was originally supposed to be here with us, but Edward refused to let Bella come to Volterra without Emmett along for added muscle, and Hawkins insisted that we only had room for 8, so we traded her for Emmett.

The conversation with Wes had gone dry for a little while. I tried the usual small stuff to strike it back up.

"So, do you know where we are right now, exactly?" I asked, trying not to shout over the deafening roar of the rotary blades above us.

"We're about forty miles northeast of Volterra," he answered into my ear.

"So that's what – about twelve minutes out?"

"Give or take."

"Ugh... can't we slow down a little?"

"What's wrong? You nervous?"

"Uh, yeah. Aren't you?"

"I'm trying not to think about it."

"I just hope everything goes according to plan."

"It never does, Cor. You of all people should know that. But you don't have to sweat it – we've got a guy on the inside, right?"

"Yeah. You're right. We have a guy on the inside."

He leaned in a little closer so that he could lower his voice. "Okay, look – I know you know who it is..."

"Wesley, I told you. It's a secret."

"Oh, what – like I'm gonna tell anybody now? Just let me know who it is, so I don't accidentally kill him when I'm in there."

I thought about his request for a moment. There really wasn't any reason not to tell him. We would be landing in Volterra in a matter of minutes, and then at 2am on the dot, we were making our grand entrance. What could it hurt?

"Okay," I conceded, "but you can't tell anybody you heard it from me."

"I swear," he said, crossing an X over his heart with his finger. "Who is it?"

"Edgar."

His expression wasn't what I expected. It was confused – and a little concerned. "You don't mean Edgar _Yardley_, do you?"

A cold chill ran through my whole body. That was exactly who I meant.

"Yeah, Edgar Yardley. Why?"

"Why? H-he's... he's like an all-time Philippe loyalist!" Wesley blurted out. "What did you tell him? What-"

"Hey, relax. He's a good guy," I replied, trying to calm myself down in the process. "He's London's father."

"I don't care if he's Mother Teresa's father! He's a liar, and a manipulator. You can't trust him for anything. Does he know about this operation?"

"Yes, he knows about the operation, and no, he's not a liar. I would know."

"Obviously you wouldn't," he countered, his eyes growing wider with intensity by the second.

"Wesley, you of all people should know that he's on our side. He was the one who told me how to contact you when Philippe was hunting you down, and he was the one who told you to go save Grant in Havana, remember?"

"What on earth are you talking about?" He asked angrily.

"He called you – he told you that Philippe sent assassins to kill Grant."

"Cor, he never told me anything."

"So what, then – you just guessed?"

"No! Moses told me."

"Moses?"

"Yeah. He's been helping me out ever since Belgium. He was the one who helped me escape Philippe. He was the one who told me about Grant. In fact, were it not for him, I probably would have been caught by Edgar and his posse. They were waiting for me at the tree where you left that note for Grant. Moses made up a bogus story and got them off my trail."

"But... that's not possible..." I said, trying to reconcile the two wildly divergent images in my head. "I would have known if he was lying..."

"No, you wouldn't. He's a_ liar_. Like, supernaturally so. He's a lot like Philippe, which is probably why they get along so well. He pushes thoughts, Cor. He makes people trust him."

"No. Not possible. He was my closest friend, all that time in Volterra."

"When did you meet him? Was it before or after the fight in Malmedy?"

"After."

"After you were in Philippe's custody?"

"Yes..."

"He wasn't your friend, Cor. He was spying on you. He's still spying on you. We need to turn this thing around. This mission is compromised."

I wanted to say something, but there were no words that came to my mind, only images, flashed in rapid succession. It was like that point in the movie where you realize that the psychologist was a ghost all along, and you go back through all the scenes, thinking, _how did I not see that?_ This was that feeling, only horrifying.

I thought back to the first time I met Edgar, and he "helped" me leave a note to warn Grant. He was probably just using me to find him. And the call that I went to great lengths to make in Moscow – maybe that was just a test to see if I was still loyal to Wesley. I went back over every memory in as much detail as I could cram into a few seconds, but I couldn't find anything to contradict Wesley's accusation. We had all trusted a liar, and our lives were in danger because of it.

The commotion in the helicopter shook me out of my flashbacks. Edward had overheard us talking, and was yelling at Hawkins and Grant, trying to find out how much of our plan Edgar new about. There was apparently a group consensus that we should abort the mission, but the helicopter was still carrying us toward Volterra. Amidst the sudden panic, everyone had forgotten the obvious, until Bella interrupted, speaking to no one in general.

"Hey, what about the other group? Aren't they in danger, too?"

"Oh, my God, we have to warn them!" I blurted.

"I'm already on it," Edward said, hurriedly dialing a number on his cell phone.

"It's no use, Ed," Hawkins said grimly. "They've got Braylon with them. He's blocking all the communications in and out."

"What? Already?" Edward replied, his eyes wide in worry and surprise.

"We're inside the event window," Grant said, stepping back in from the cockpit and glancing at his watch. "He was supposed to have started the signal blockade ten minutes ago."

"Try anyway!" Bella urged.

"I have been," Edward replied shortly. "I tried Carlisle, Jasper, even Tanya. Nothing."

"Well, we can't just let them run into a trap," I said, trying to think of another way.

"There's nothing we can do," Hawkins said, his tone as flat as his expression. "They're on their own. Let's just hope they're keeping their eyes open."

_There has to be another way_, I kept thinking to myself, trying to will another solution into being._ If only we had London here... if only we hadn't sent her away... _

London would have been perfect, but it was a one-way street with her, and I was on the wrong side.

I did have a cell phone, though.

- - - LONDON WILLOUGHBY - - -

By the third time the phone rang, I was about ready to send it into orbit. The super-phone my dad made was great and all (I mean, I was seriously in the middle of nowhere, and I still had reception), but it only had one, nails-on-chalkboard ringtone, and it was driving me to the point of insanity. Actually, I wanted to answer it. I didn't look at the caller I.D., but I knew who it was. It was dad and Coraline, calling to check in on me one more time before they went off to war. I wanted to answer, but I couldn't. What was I supposed to tell them? I'm back in Forks? Coraline had the world's best B.S.-detector. I wasn't in an emotional state to be chewed out by another person I loved, so I ignored the call, and tried to think about something other than my family being burned alive.

I was supposed to be watching Renesmee in the first place, so I connected with her covertly just to check in. She was running through the forest with a wolf – probably Jacob. It looked like they were hunting. She seemed safe and happy, sort of like I was supposed to be. _If only you had just done what they told you_, I scolded myself, resting my head on the dirty steering wheel of my car. _At least then, you'd be safe. And well fed. And blissfully naïve. But no, you couldn't do that, could you? You just had to get in the middle of everything._

The phone rang again, and this time, I looked at it.

It was Coraline.

As much as I hated it, I knew I needed to answer. I had already been selfish enough for one day. She and Grant were probably worried about me (and for good reason). Not letting them have the peace-of-mind they needed was just cruel. I heaved a huge sigh, flipped open the big, bulky phone, and pressed the answer button, my head still on the wheel.

"Hey, Coraline-"

"London! Thank God! Listen, you have to connect with Jasper, or Zane, or someone. They have to stop. They know we're coming."

My heart started to race uncontrollably. Cold beads of sweat began forming on my head and neck.

Something was wrong.

"Who knows we're – I mean,_ they're_ coming?" I asked.

"Philippe knows! It's an ambush. You have to tell them. You have to stop them."

"Oh my God! Um... okay, let me see what I can do. Stay on the line, okay?"

She didn't answer. Instead, I heard a jumble of words and some loud tone beeping.

"Coraline? Are you okay? What's going on?"

"We're not close enough," a random voice from the background said. "Coraline – drop the phone. It's time to go."

"-what – now?" she responded to the other voice. It sounded like Hawkins.

The call ended, and now, I was really worried. I connected to Coraline for a second. She was in a helicopter, but she was moving around, trying to look at something. It looked like another flying craft... and then it started shooting at her. I heard a cluster of metallic pinging sounds, as the bullets pierced the side of the vehicle.

_They're being shot down. God, help us!_

I disconnected from her in a panic, and searched through my mind for someone in the big group that I could warn. The adrenaline was setting in so strong that I was literally shaking, and for a minute, I couldn't concentrate. I tried Jasper, but I was too frantic to focus on him. I moved onto Zane next, but he just ignored me altogether. Stupid boy! He wouldn't even listen to what I was saying.

Finally, it dawned on me – my other dad would listen. I connected with Harvey, who came to a stop as soon as he noticed.

"London? What's going on? Are you okay?"

"No. Philippe knows you're coming. It's a trap."

"What? How?"

"I don't know. All I know is that you're running into an ambush. You have to abort the mission now!"

"Bloody hell," he half-whispered. "The first wave is almost there."

"Well, stop them. Hurry!" I shouted. I released him and ran out of the car, heading in their direction. The group had only been gone for 5 minutes, or so. I'd warn them in person, if I had to.

My legs were churning beneath me like a machine, carrying me across the rocky, moon-like soil as fast as possible. The wind was blowing against me, carrying their scent with it. I could smell it getting stronger little by little. I was catching up to them.

Slowly.

After about 3 minutes of running at a dead sprint, I heard the sounds – bright, piercing metallic sounds, accompanied by screams and shouting.

I was already too late.

_God, you have to help us!_ I pleaded in my thoughts, as I kept sprinting full speed ahead. _You know we're on the right side here. Please... help us. _

The sounds got louder as I came within 2 miles of the battle. I could see the movement in the distance, but I couldn't make any faces out until I got a lot closer. When I could, it broke my heart and turned my stomach. A dozen or so of our people were strewn out across the gray rocks. Some were still moving, crawling across the ground to try and avoid the near-constant gunfire around them. Most were missing limbs, a few were too mangled to make out any identity. I slowed down as I surveyed the field, trying to keep a level head.

That was a bad idea.

While I was still a quarter-mile out, at least, I heard something buzz over my head – then, several things came in fast order. It didn't take long to figure out what was happening.

Someone was shooting at me.

I hit the ground and crawled over to take cover behind a rock cluster. _Great, London! You wanted to be involved? Well, now you are._

I peeked out from behind the cluster after a few seconds, trying to find where everyone else was hiding. About 300 yards from my position, there was a group of fifteen or so, who had apparently dug a ditch to hide in. I swallowed hard, said a prayer, and took off running for it like an idiot. I could hear the bullets zipping by my body again, but no one was able to get a hit on me. Everyone in the ditch noticed me coming, and as soon as I was near, Carlisle Cullen reached out and pulled me in.

"What happened?" I asked him, short of breath, as I tried to stay low enough in the ditch to avoid being shot.

"It was an ambush. Somebody tipped them off," he said calmly. It was weird seeing someone so even-tempered in the middle of a life-or-death situation.

"Where's everyone else?"

"Jasper and most of the best fighters were at the front of the formation. They were hit by the gunfire first. Jasper and Alice are pinned down in the middle of the field. We're trying to figure out how to get to them. Zane and the group behind him are holed up about two hundred yards to our right."

"We have to get Jasper and Alice out of there. They're sitting ducks!" I said, speaking loudly enough to get my message across to more than just Carlisle.

"I know," he replied softly. "We're working on it."

"We just need to fight back. Didn't we have guns of our own?"

"Most of them were with the front line. We have one here – I believe Zane has two or three with his men."

"Well, it's time to start coordinating this thing," I said, hunching down a little further and connecting with Jasper.

"Jasper – it's London. Are you okay?" I asked aloud, drawing a little attention from the people around me. Most of them had never seen me do my thing.

"Uh... yes. I'm okay. Took a few shots to the stomach, but I'll make it."

"We're gonna get you out, okay? Just hold on."

"Forget about me," he replied. "Just get Alice. Tell me when you're coming. I'll try and draw some fire away from you, and you sneak in and pull her out."

"I'm getting you both out," I said, disconnecting and switching to my dad. He was with Zane and a few others behind a short hill.

"Dad – are you alright?"

"I'm fine, London. Where are you?"

"I'm with Carlisle. Listen, we need to get Jasper and Alice out of there. How many guns do you have?"

He checked with Zane and the others.

"We've got three. One's low on ammunition, though."

"Okay. There's one over here. Eleazar's going to take it and run from this direction. You guys come from your side, and meet in the middle. We've got a handful of others who are going to try and be a diversion over here. Go on my mark, got it?"

"London, we can handle this," Zane said aloud to my dad. I wanted to reach over there and slap him.

"Dad, tell Zane: 'you're not handling anything. I'm doing this with or without you.'"

I disconnected, explained the plan to my group, and coordinated all three parties. As soon as there was a lull in the gunfire, they took off, criss-crossing the field and firing at the bad guys, who were taking cover behind a handful of deserted, gray brick buildings. The group came back with both Jasper and Alice, though one of Zane's guys got hit pretty badly in the process. My dad, Zane, Alice and Jasper all ended back up in my ditch, and as soon as they were safely inside, they started working up a new plan.

"Listen up," Jasper began. "They think they've bested us. They're hiding behind their walls, and they expect to break our spirits and pick us off one by one. Well, we're not even close to finished." He started drawing a map of the battlefield in the dirt with his finger. "Are any of y'all familiar with Pickett's charge?"

"American Civil war – Confederate army attack on a Union position," Garrett replied. "Yeah, we know the story."

"Well, we're gonna have a little reenactment," Jasper said, drawing up battle lines.

"Jasper, you do remember the confederates were massacred there..." Carlisle said warily.

"I do," Jasper replied, looking up with a smirk. "And hopefully, so do they." He reloaded one of our guns and handed it to Zane. "How many men do you have left?"

"Six."

"Good. You take them, and circle around real wide to the left. Try to flank 'em. Lucy, Fred, Braylon, Navi – you're with Harvey. Y'all take the right flank. The rest of us are gonna wait for ya'll to get in position, and then charge straight at 'em across the field."

"In plain sight of the gunners?" Carlisle asked.

"Not entirely," Jasper answered slowly. "Benjamin here's gonna provide some strategically placed cover when the time comes. Think you can handle that, Ben?"

Benjamin nodded reluctantly. "I'll give it my best shot."

I didn't know what Ben was supposed to do, but it sounded a lot like suicide to me. I was glad that Zane and my parents weren't part of the middle group.

"We may lose a few people this way, but it's our best option," Jasper continued. "Close combat will take away their advantage. Alright – Zane, Harvey – get moving. Wait for us to get about halfway through the field, and then charge."

The two groups took off, retreating at least a mile and a half backward before curving around to either side. Jasper gave a few last instructions to the handful of people left while the others got into position.

"Believe it or not, I think we've got 'em outnumbered," he said. "All the shots are coming from ten or eleven locations." He passed out the three remaining guns. "Don't be fooled – these things'll shoot right through those walls they're hiding behind. Just look for the flashes of gunfire and shoot in that direction. And whatever you do – keep charging. No matter what." He looked Alice in the eyes, lowering and softening his tone. "No matter what."

The flanking groups were in their places a minute later. I double-checked with each leader, and then relayed the info to Jasper. It was time to strike.

He put a hand on my shoulder, as the group double-checked their weapons and got into their stances.

"London, I want you to stay here. As soon as we take out the gunners, we'll start bringing the wounded back here. Can you help put them back together?"

_Of course that's what you want. "Stay out of the way, London. Don't make a mess of things. Be a good little nurse." Thanks a lot, Jasper. Nice to know you believe in me._

"I'll try," I said, with a nod. I was tired of arguing.

"Great. Alright, here goes," he said to the group. "Signal them, London."

I connected with my dad and Zane, and told them to stand by.

"They're ready, Jasper."

"Remember," he said to his team, as he poised his body to take off, "keep running. No matter what."

And they rushed across the field.


	30. Chapter 29

_29. SCATTERED_

- - - GRANT WILLOUGHBY - - -

By the time I got back there, the passenger compartment was even crazier than the cockpit. All seven passengers were talking over each other, scrambling back and forth to opposite sides of the craft, and throwing off the balance in the process. I started to ask Coraline for an update on the situation, but she was on the phone, presumably with London. I turned to Edward next, but Hawkins grabbed me before I could speak.

"What are you doing in here?" He shouted. "Get your ass back in that cockpit!"

"What's going on out there?" I asked.

"We're under attack. Now, go!"

"What sort of attack? What's the plan?"

He walked into the cockpit, grabbed our human pilot by the neck, and threw him out the window.

"Fly!" He commanded. I obeyed.

The design of the helicopter was simple enough – I had a handle on it quickly, and was ready for directions – only, no one was giving them. I was about to ask what our next move was, when I heard the sound of bullets tearing through the craft. I checked around me, and saw the problem with my own eyes. There was an unmanned aircraft firing a heavy-caliber Gatling gun at us. No wonder Hawkins wanted me flying. I took evasive action, ducking and dodging in the air, trying to keep the craft from getting a good angle on us. Despite my best efforts, though, we were taking more hits. It was only a matter of time before one of the vital components was damaged, sending us plummeting to the countryside below.

After thirty more nerve-racked seconds, Hawkins popped his head into the cockpit.

"There's another fighter behind us now. We've gotta ditch."

"What? Without 'chutes?"

"Yeah. Listen, can you get us directly over Volterra? We're gonna make a grand entrance."

"I don't know – I'll-"

"Great!" He said, cutting me off. "Get us as high as you can. We'll need as much speed as possible to break through the pavement."

The helicopter lurched to the side, as a missile exploded just feet from the passenger door. I struggled to regain control of the vehicle, and as soon as I looked again, Hawkins was back in the passenger bay, giving instructions to the group. I checked my instrument panel – we were less than two miles from the Volturi's underground complex.

"Just stay afloat a little longer, Grant," I said aloud to myself, pushing and pulling on levers with all the speed I could muster. Then, without warning, I began losing power to my tail rotor. The second unmanned craft had landed a hit on the electrical wiring leading to the tail. There was a redundant wiring braid, but it, too, had been clipped. I reached out with my mind, trying to keep the blade spinning, as my hands kept directing the helicopter upward.

Dodging one aircraft was difficult. Evading two was impossible. Another stream of bullets cut through the cockpit, destroying half my gauges, and ricocheting off my head and right arm. We were out of time.

"Hawkins!" I shouted over my shoulder. "It's now or never." I looked back to see that he had already jumped, along with everyone else except Wesley and Ramona, who was apparently reluctant to abandon ship.

"Wesley – get out now. I can't keep us airborne any longer!" I urged, as another round of fire hit. This time, I lost hold of the tail rotor, and the helicopter went into a spin. I don't know whether Ramona jumped, or was pushed, but the next time I looked back, she and Wesley were gone. It was just me and a 10,000-pound hunk of metal and combustibles hovering precariously over a populated neighborhood. I stayed with the helicopter a little longer, trying to stabilize it enough to steer it away from the innocent humans below. There was a church below us – I assumed it would be relatively empty in the middle of the night, so I aimed the falling craft there.

I didn't have the chance to see it through.

While I was still several hundred feet above ground, I heard the hiss of a missile heading directly for me. There wasn't time to turn my head and confirm it. I didn't need to. I knew the attackers wouldn't miss this time. In a reflexive moment, I hurled my body to the left, breaking a hole in the side of the cockpit and flying out of the helicopter. The missile stuck its target behind me, thrusting my body to the side with the concussion of the blast.

By the time I steadied my free-falling body, I was thirty feet from the ground. I curled instinctively into a ball, and took the force of the impact. I landed in a parking lot, punching a hole completely through a small automobile and burrowing four feet into the ground underneath. The shock of a crash landing wasn't as bad as I had anticipated – within a matter of seconds, I was able to shake it off, and climb out of the hole. I glanced around quickly to see a disaster scene around me. The helicopter had, indeed, struck the church, which was now raging in flames, along with two neighboring buildings. In the distance, I could hear human voices shouting alongside the whine of rescue vehicle sirens. I had no idea where in town I was, where the unmanned crafts had gone, or where the rest of my team was.

For a moment, I was alone. And then, out of nowhere, I was greeted by the wrong sort of company. The deadly sort.

- - - LONDON WILLOUGHBY - - -

Benjamin was amazing. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I never would've believed it. The group would charge fifty yards forward, and he would pull a wall of rock up, right out of the ground. The rock didn't always stop the bullets, but it slowed most of them down to keep them from doing much damage to our guys. They moved forward chunk by chunk, and then, when they were about a hundred yards away, Zane's group charged from the side, followed by my dad's group from the other side. Jasper released this huge growl-yell, and the middle group closed the rest of the gap in a dead sprint. I cringed, as I watched. I didn't really want to see it, but I had to know what happened. The bad guys had to spread out their fire to defend all three groups, and the middle group got through without too much trouble. All, that is, except for Channing, one of the Americans. He took three or four bullets to the head, and dropped on the spot. Not sure if you can bounce back from that, but it didn't look hopeful.

All three groups converged on the buildings at about the same time, and I heard the thunder of hand-to-hand combat. At first, it looked like we were winning. And then, reinforcements came. A hatch opened up right in the middle of the ground behind the buildings, and at least ten more guys came out. I bit my lip, pulling back into the ditch and psyching myself up.

_It's game time, London. You can do this. Just think "fierce." You kill them, or they kill you. Go!_

I let out a battle yell of my own, and took off across the field to help my friends. The first one I came to was Rosalie Cullen. She was grappling with this huge, hairy guy, and it looked like she was losing. I didn't even slow down, running full-speed toward him, and latching onto his back. I jerked at his head with all my might, and after a minute, I heard a deep crunching sound, like a thick tree branch breaking. The guy fell beneath me, and Rosalie took his head completely off using her teeth.

I was frozen there for a minute, as I realized what I had just done. You have to understand – I was in no way, shape or form a fighter. I slapped a guy in 8th grade and accidentally broke his jaw. That was the sum total of my combat experience. Now, I had just killed a big, burly man by breaking his neck. That was a little dramatic. I probably would have gone on thinking about that fact for a while longer, but I got pulled back into the fight. Literally.

Someone grabbed my hair from behind, and yanked me off my feet. I went flying across the battlefield, and busted a hole through a wall of gray concrete blocks. I couldn't move for a second – my body must have been in shock. I snapped out of it when the guy came in after me, putting his grimy fingers around my neck. I tried to fight him off, but he was crazy-strong. I started to get light-headed, as he choked my oxygen supply, and I seriously thought I was going to die. My arms flailed around, trying to grab hold of anything, which happened to be a very good strategy. My left hand felt the barrel of a gun, and I reached over just enough to grab the handle. I pointed it at the guy, and started shooting. The first bullet went in his shoulder, but the next few cut through his neck. He let me go, and I finished the rest of the ammo into his stupid face. It did the job. He wasn't moving.

_Move over, Rambo. I'm on a roll._

With two enemies down, I was starting to feel pretty good about myself. I ran back outside, and got into the fight. First, I helped Esme and Carmen with a short-haired girl. Then, I fought off a couple of teenagers with Ben and Tia. It was all going fine until Zane spotted me.

"London, god dammit!" he shouted, still fighting off a pair of bad guys. "Don't you ever listen?"

"Shut up, Zane." I shouted back, running to the next fight. I saw my dad struggling with a tattooed-up guy who looked really bad. My mom was there, too, and they were both losing. I tried to get through the fray to them, but on the way, I started getting dizzy. Before I took three more steps, I stumbled and fell. The world around me was spinning like a top, and I freaked a little bit. Things were so bad that I couldn't even stand back up, so when I heard an unusually worried-sounding Jasper start yelling "Retreat! Retreat!" I had a brief moment of panic. I crawled around on the ground, trying to at least get out of sight, but it didn't work. Someone grabbed hold of my arm with an iron grip, swinging me over their shoulder and carrying me off to my death.

I kicked and screamed, but the brute wouldn't loosen up for anything. I kept trying, though, until he talked to me.

"London, stop! It's me," the familiar voice hissed.

Zane.

He kept running, and I quit kicking. The dizziness wore off quickly, and I could see that we were running away from the core of the fight, along with most of our friends.

_Last time I checked, we were kickin' some butt out there. What are we running from?_

Before I could ask Zane, we heard Carlisle yelling at everyone to stop. We turned around, and saw the weirdest thing. Jasper, Alice, and most of the other leaders, including my dad, were just standing at various places on the field, still as a statue. Most of the enemy fighters backed up into the cover of the buildings, and a group of robed figures took their place, walking forward slowly in a straight line. The tall one in the middle threw back the hood of his cloak to talk. He was a blond-haired man in his late 30's, and he looked almost... amused.

"Freedom fighters," he called out, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Stop for a moment and lend me your ears. I have a proposal to make."

"We have nothing further to discuss with you," Carlisle said defiantly, as the un-frozen ones of us slowly grouped around him.

"Oh, really?" the blond one said. He snapped his fingers, and two of the robed guys darted over to one of Zane's men who was frozen. They tore his arms off and set his body on fire like it was one, super-smooth motion. He burned to a pile of ashes without budging. The robed guys got back into line, and we all decided to listen.

"How about now?" The blond one asked. "Or, do you need another demonstration?"

"What do you want, Piers?" Carlisle asked. He had somehow become our unofficial spokesman.

"We can all see how wasteful this fighting is. Are we not all brothers? I have a proposal for you. My commander is at this very moment creating a new world order, and he has instructed me to extend an offer to several of you. Jasper, Alice, Eleazar, Benjamin, Braylon, Katrina, Rico, Zane – you are all talented people in your own way. My master will create a place for you in his new world. You may join us peacefully, and preserve your lives."

"Just like that?" Benjamin asked. "We just switch sides?"

"Yes. Just like that," Piers replied, as one of his sidekicks brought out an empty robe. "Make the wise choice."

"And what of the rest of us?" Carlisle asked.

"You will be detained here, until your fate is determined," Piers answered.

"In other words, we're dead," I whispered to Zane, who was still holding me.

Carlisle gave the group answer.

"You should know that such an offer would be completely-"

"I'll do it," a voice spoke out, interrupting him. It was Rico, one of the two Venezuelans. He squeezed the hand of his mate, Aniesa, and started to walk forward, leaving her behind. We were all dumbstruck.

"What use is fighting against such powerful foes?" He said, as he walked across the field, nearly brushing against the frozen bodies as he passed. "I would like to speak with your master regarding the fate of my less-talented friends," he continued, stepping over to the end of the line, next to a couple of really short vampires.

"Of course, Rico," Piers said. He apparently knew each of the people he named. "You will find that my master is very much open to all of hi-"

Suddenly, right in the middle of Piers's speech, Rico lunged at one of the short robed ones, digging into the guy's neck with his teeth. The other robed ones ripped him to pieces in a flash, but not before all our guys in the field became un-frozen. Whatever Rico did, we had a chance again.

"Charge!" Jasper shouted.

And we all charged.

- - - GRANT WILLOUGHBY - - -

My world was suddenly a blur of kicks and fists, like a martial arts movie in fast motion. My limbs bought me time against two foes, while my mind searched for a weakness in them. They were both highly skilled fighters – strong men in gray cloaks. At times, I almost lost my composure, but I was able to stall long enough to use my ability against them. I cut the feeling to the lower half of one, took hold of the other and threw him across the parking lot, then decapitated the first one. By the time the other got back to me, I had a mental lock on him, as well. I impeded the signal flow around his occipital lobe, rendering him mostly blind, and placed a solid kick to his jaw, sending him reeling. Before his body hit the ground, my heel was on his throat, and with the help of gravity, I crushed it to gravel. Not ten seconds later, I was joined by a much more welcome face. Edward Cullen.

"Hey, I heard your thoughts. Are you alright?" he asked.

"Fine," I replied, ignoring the intense throbbing in my left shoulder from the landing. "Where are the rest of us?"

"Hawkins, Emmett and Coraline went through the ground a half-mile back. I sent Bella with them. Ramona busted to pieces. Wesley's trying to gather her up."

"Let's get moving, then," I replied. "We're way too exposed out here."

I expected him to lead me back in the direction of the others, but instead, he ran headlong into the burning remains of the church next to us.

"Edward – what are you doing?" I asked, trying to catch up to him.

"I'm taking the back door. You coming?"

I joined him in the church without an explanation, and we carefully worked our way through the caved-in sanctuary to a staircase. Down the stairway, cluttered with rubble, was a small storage room with an opening in the wall. I stopped momentarily before following Edward in.

"What is this?" I asked.

"The west entrance to the catacombs," he replied, surprised that I asked. "Isn't that what you were aiming for? I have to admit – landing the helicopter on it was a bit aggressive, but it worked."

"This leads to the underground city?"

"Yes. C'mon, we need to keep moving. I'm actually surprised there aren't any more guards coming through here."

_That's probably because they're too busy fighting our ladies_, I thought, pushing even faster down the hallway.

- - - CORALINE GRAY-WILLOUGHBY - - -

Emmett and Bella Could have really used more help from me, but I was too distracted thinking about whether Grant was being triple-teamed out there on his own before Edward could get to him. Luckily, the rest of the group was made up of great hand-to-hand fighters. I never really appreciated how skilled Hawkins was until I saw him in action. Emmett was strong, Bella was fast, but Hawkins was a one-man demolition team. Around the four of us were at least ten Guard members, and we were surviving somehow. Actually, we were doing better than surviving.

I jumped into the fight with as much concentration as I could spare, and we fought them off together. Hawkins was breaking limbs left and right; Emmett kept grabbing guys and tossing them across the room to thin out the mob. Bella and I worked on the injured ones, and after five minutes of hectic fighting, we had the odds nearly evened at 5 Guards to 4 of us. That's when Bella got her leg broken. I saw it happen, but couldn't get there in time to stop it. One of the big cloaked Guards snapped her thigh in half. Emmett was on him in a flash, fighting two of them off at once to protect her. Hawkins and I took the opportunity to do some double-teaming of our own. He grappled one just long enough for me to get my teeth into his neck, then chucked that one aside and got into a fist-blocking match with another one. I took the last one on by myself, and stayed alive long enough for Hawkins to get over to me. We eventually got all the Guard members incapacitated, and took a moment to regroup.

Emmett and I tended to Bella's broken leg, while Hawkins double-checked to make sure our enemies wouldn't be piecing themselves back together with our backs turned. Once he broke a few more pieces, he came over to check in.

"How bad is it, lads?" he asked, speaking of Bella's injury.

"It's a pretty bad break," I answered, while she grimaced and moaned under the pain. "She's no use to us as a fighter."

"Well, we can't just leave her behind," Emmett half-yelled.

"I don't intend to," Hawkins countered calmly. "We'll carry her along with us."

"And where exactly are we going?" I asked sharply. "Do you have any plan at all?'

"We've gotta try and get to the Volturi before Philippe and Elliot do. If we can reach them first, we can get the rest of the Guard fighting with us."

"What makes you think they'll believe us now?" Emmett asked, looking up at the hole in the ceiling he made when he fell through from 10,000 feet. It didn't exactly scream "we're on your side." And then, there were the Guard members we just annihilated...

"Aro can read our minds," Hawkins answered. "He'll know we're telling the truth. He won't read anything if he's dead, though. We need to get moving." He turned to me.

"You know this place better than anyone else. Lead the way."

I looked around us. We had actually fared pretty well when we landed. Emmett's cannonball broke a hole through the street, dropping us in one of the upper drainage systems above the main catacombs. If the Volturi were still inside, they would be in the keep – the most secure location in the whole compound. The keep was deep inside the labyrinth, far past the restricted areas I had never been through. Fortunately, it was also far from Philippe's new area.

"I'll do my best," I shrugged.

"Well, what're you waiting for?" Hawkins asked, when I didn't start running right away.

"Aren't we gonna wait for Wesley and Ramona to catch up?"

"No time. The longer we stand here, the worse our chances of getting to the big Three. Wesley's on his own."

I didn't like it, but he was right. We had to go. I took off running, moving through the eerily-empty halls and chambers I used to live in. Everything was dark and quiet. No humans, no vampires. It was like the whole place had been deserted. We broke through doors or walls whenever the need arose, and reached the huge steel gates of the restricted area in about ten minutes.

"This is as far as I've been," I told the group, as we stood outside the gate. "Once we're inside-"

"We'll find our way," Hawkins interrupted. "C'mon. Let's go."

It took us a lot of work to get through the reinforced gates, but we broke them eventually, and started the guessing game to find the right path to the keep.

Lucky for us, the Guard was there to show the way.

There was a lot of shouting coming from one direction, and it didn't sound too far away. We kept following the sound, and quickly came to a long, high-ceilinged hallway, where a couple of gray-cloaked guards were fighting – with Grant and Edward.

- - - LONDON WILLOUGHBY - - -

With the numbness vampire sprawled out on the ground, it was a fair fight again, and we all got into the middle of the melee. I was off to a good start, fighting alongside my dad and Braylon, when the dizziness came back in a powerful way.

"Kill the Mongolian!" I heard Jasper shout, as a group of guys charged right into the cluster of gray cloaks with him. I tried to get up and help, but I couldn't even see straight. My dad and Braylon closed me in behind them, and fought off whoever they could, but we were all outnumbered again. Bad guys kept rushing out of the buildings like ants out of an anthill. The dizziness lifted in a few seconds, but that was because my dad managed to carry me out of range. Whoever this "Mongolian" guy was, he was still alive.

As soon as we had shaken off the dizziness, we surveyed the field to see how we could help. From a distance, I could see how much worse the situation was than I thought. Our guys were outnumbered almost 3 to 1, and with this stupid dizziness guy impairing everyone, we didn't stand a chance. He was standing a few hundred yards from the main body of the fight, along with the other robed-guys. The short one that had been bitten before was still lying on the ground, and it looked like someone was trying to revive him.

"We've gotta get around to those robed guys and kill the 'Mongolian,'" I said to my dad, while Braylon started fighting off 2 bad guys that followed us out of the fray.

"We can't get to him," my dad replied. "He's being protected by the other specials."

"All the gray-cloak ones are specials?" I asked, as a tingly sensation went through my stomach. We were in really bad shape.

"Most of them," he answered. "Look, I have to help Bray-"

Before he finished, the bad guys had a hold of Braylon's arms, and ripped him apart. My dad started backing up in front of me. I swallowed hard. I had an idea, but I knew he wouldn't go for it, so I just ran.

Toward the gray-robes.

"London! What are you doing?" My dad yelled, chasing me. I was faster than he was – he wasn't going to be able to stop me in time.

_These guys wanted me bad_, I thought, rehearsing my logic as I went, to make sure I wasn't doing something totally stupid. Okay, so maybe it was totally stupid, but it needed to make sense._ I was, like, priority one for them. That's why Zane worked so hard to protect me. How could they turn down the offer to bring me back to their boss?_

I started working my mind magic as I ran a big loop around the fighters, and found enough of a foothold to get a weak connection with the Piers.

"Hey! It's London Willoughby!" I shouted to him. He seemed a little confused at first, but he caught on soon enough. "Take me. You can take me alive, just let my family go. I'll surrender to you."

"London!" My dad shouted from behind me. "Don't-"

"Do it!" I shouted again to the guy. "You know I'm the one you want."

"What's going on," one of the other robed guys asked him. He was a big, bald, Arabic guy.

"The Willoughby girl is trying to turn herself in," he answered.

The bald guy's face lit up.

"The half-breed?" he asked.

"Yes."

"We have to bring her in," the bald guy said convincingly. "Philippe wants her badly."

"Philippe has no further use for her," Piers shrugged dismissively. He obviously didn't realize I could hear him. He looked right at me and waved his arm, motioning me to come over.

"Allow the half-breed through," he shouted to his men.

"What are we gonna do with her, then?" The bald one asked.

"Let her close enough to make it easy, then kill her."

_Crap. Well, maybe this _is_ a bad idea._

"I'm not going to kill her!" bald guy almost shouted. The ones beside him took notice.

"You'll do as you're told," Piers countered, staring 'Bald Guy' down.

"She's coming to surrender herself. Don't you have any honor at all?"

"Mbete – kill the girl," Piers said to a super-tall guy near the end of the line.

Bald Guy was persistent. "Piers! I will not stand for this kind of-"

"Jane," Piers said simply. Bald Guy shrieked in pain and fell to the ground. Piers turned to the tall guy again. "Make it showy. Her death might demoralize the rest of them."

"Sir – I mean no disrespect, but-" the tall one protested.

"Oh, for the love of god!" Piers groaned. "Not you, too! Kill the girl, or wind up like Moses."

The tall one shut up, and I disconnected.

I was almost there. I could feel the blood pumping through my veins, harder than ever. I knew it was suicide, but I was the only one who was going to be able to get in close to the specials. Without something drastic, everyone would die, so I made the only decision there was to make.

I was going 'Rico' on their butts.

I charged full-speed ahead, running right for the dude with the extra-long goatee. He was the only one who even looked remotely like he could be from Mongolia. The tall guy on the end slowly pulled a huge, battle axe-looking thing from under his robe as I approached. He flipped a switch, and flames ignited in the middle of it.

_Wow. Showy it is._

I connected with my dad, who was still close behind me, and said the only goodbye I could muster.

"Sorry, dad. This is the only way. I love you."

I was only 100 yards away. This was it. The tall guy raised his axe and let it fly.


	31. Chapter 30

_30. THE BITTER END_

- - - GRANT WILLOUGHBY - - -

The dark, Gothic hallways of the underground city flashed by in a blur, as I wound further and further into the twisted underworld of the city. Edward navigated the passageways flawlessly, drawn to the thoughts of our enemies like blood on a hunt; I did my best to keep up. We probably could have made better time, had I not been so preoccupied with Coraline's well-being.

"I told you, she's fine. I heard her thoughts a moment ago," Edward assured me, as we raced downward, tearing through walls and floors on our way. "They're headed for the keep – it's where the Volturi would theoretically go if the city were to come under attack."

"Theoretically?"

"If I were them, I'd be miles from here by now. Of course, Aro's probably too proud to do something that logical."

"Can't you hear his thoughts? Aro's – that is."

"No," he replied slowly, "but that doesn't mean he isn't here. It's a big place."

"Okay... well, why aren't we heading to the rest of the group? Are you trying to intercept them?" I asked, rubbing my shoulder to try and alleviate the nagging pain.

"No," he answered flatly. "I'm trying to get there before they do."

"Why?"

"Because I think going in is a bad idea."

I dropped the questioning for a moment, and focused on speed. For the swift response that met me above ground at the landing sight, the Volturi headquarters was surprisingly vacant. We ran across two solitary Guard members on our way to the keep. Both times, we operated a quick double-team, and dropped them in a hurry. Edward was the perfect wingman – he could read my thoughts, so he knew exactly what nerve impulses I was going to pinch before I did it. It was easy.

We were to the bottom floor of the complex in less than ten minutes, and had gone about 400 yards toward the keep, when Edward stopped suddenly.

"I can't hear them," he said.

"Who?" I asked, stifling the urge to panic. _Please, don't be talking about the girls_-

"Not them," he replied to my fears. "The Volturi. Actually, I can't hear anything in the keep. It's like a black spot."

"What? I thought you were following thoughts-"

"I was, but apparently, they're originating from outside the keep."

"Well... are they good guys, or bad?"

"Bad. I think."

"We'd better wait for-"

"Bella's hurt," he replied with furrowed brows. "She'll be too vulnerable. We need to take them out before she gets there."

He sprinted down the hallway without giving me a chance for rebuttal.

_I hope we're not terribly outnumbered..._

I was ten paces behind him when we arrived in the tall corridor. Near the other end was a 12-foot wall of polished rock, cleft down the middle – a door, of some type. In front of the door were two Guards clothed in dark gray robes. The fight would have been a lot smoother if Edward had slowed down enough for me to get a read on them, but he charged ahead, taking them on by himself. I got a good mental look at one of them, but there was no time to read the other. I had to get in there and bail Edward out.

The first one that he tackled was in a grappling match with him on the floor, so I went to engage the second. There was something very odd about his mental makeup, which made it exceedingly difficult to get a solid read on him. As soon as I reached out to grab hold of him, I understood why. What I thought was one enemy suddenly divided into two – or, at least, it looked like two. I was struck on the face, and promptly had a large hand around my throat. The man lifted me from the ground and placed his other hand on my head for a quick kill shot before I landed a kick to his face and writhed out of his grasp. Edward seemed to have the upper hand on the other fellow, so I kept my focus on the optical-illusion one. He rushed toward me, and just as I went to counter his advance, his image split into two again. My counterstrike hit nothing but air, and I was in a quick headlock again. This time, Edward assisted me out of it, and I backed up to regroup. I was about to strike again, when my enemy's eyes darted over my shoulder. I didn't risk a look back, but I could smell what he was seeing. Reinforcements.

With their backs against the wall, the two guards had nothing to do but try and fight their way out. They both charged ahead, the splitting one swinging his fist at my neck for a quick knockdown blow. I closed my eyes as he approached, and reached out with my mind instead. I lost my awareness of where his body was in space, but I could see every movement his brain was instructing his body to make. A quick lunge to the right, and I dodged his punch, sneaking my knee up into his abdomen to keep him nearby. We grappled for a moment, my eyes still closed, before I heard the deep crunch of breaking bones near my ear. I opened my eyes to see Emmett holding the soldier's head, a crooked smirk on his face.

"Wow. That was easy," he said with a shrug.

"Maybe for you," I replied, climbing out from underneath the now-lifeless body. "Okay, so what do we do now?"

"Bust through that door and tell our side of the story," Hawkins said.

"That's not a good idea," Edward said, kneeling beside Bella.

"Why not?" Hawkins asked. "Wasn't this the plan all along?"

"The plan is long gone," Edward replied, frustrated. "I don't think we should go in there, because I have no idea what's on the other side."

"You can't read their thoughts?" Bella asked, surprised. I could hear the pain and exertion in her voice, though I still didn't know the extent of her 'injury.'

"I can't hear anything," he said, shaking his head slightly.

"So?" Emmet replied, cracking his knuckles.

"So, it could be a trap. The whole thing could be rigged to explode and bury us twenty stories underground."

"Or, it could be the Volturi behind there, and we could be done fighting today," Hawkins said.

"Whatever. Let's do it," Coraline said. "I didn't just fight my way down here to leave."

As we were talking, Wesley and Ramona joined us.

"What did we miss? Everything okay?" Wesley asked. Ramona looked like she was still a little dazed.

"We're going into the keep to present our case to the Volturi," Hawkins said. "At least, most of us are."

"I'm coming," Edward groaned. "Just don't expect me to be happy about it."

Wes and Emmett got the doors open, and all eight of us walked – or limped – into the large, round room.

And we froze.

"Surprise," Philippe said mockingly, as a small cluster of midnight-black cloaks formed a living wall in front of him. "Looks like you're a little too late. I have to say, though, I loved your plan – it was so... _thorough_."

"The Volturi..." Bella whispered.

"They left," Edward said, most likely reading Philippe's thoughts.

"Like a couple of dogs with their tails between their legs," Philippe expounded. "So much for the vaunted steadfastness of the Volturi."

"We messed up his plan – forced his hand before he could get to them," Edward continued. "Aro and Marcus left with half the Guard no more than an hour ago."

"I'll take care of them later," Philippe said casually. "For now, though, I've got more pressing matters."

"You've lost, Philippe," Hawkins challenged, easing forward slowly. "You're army's long gone by now."

"Oh, I seriously doubt that," he responded flippantly. "At last report, your little rebel group was being dismembered where they stood. So nice to have talented twins like Jane and Alec for those sorts of occasions."

My heart dropped to the deepest regions of despair. _All our friends... we sent them to their doom._

"He's bluffing," Edward growled through clenched teeth.

"Really, mind-reader? Who's mind are you getting that assumption from? Certainly not mine."

"I'm gonna rip off that cocky head of yours, crapwad," Emmett threatened.

"So charming, too," Philippe chuckled. "Oh, Ronan, you attract the most interesting company. I really must thank you for making my job easier. I was prepared to take the next three months rounding these hooligans up – and here, you've delivered them to me on a silver platter." Philippe stopped a moment, looking over my head. "Hey there, where do you think you're going?" He asked. Apparently, Ramona had been quietly backing up toward the door. "Why don't you step back inside, I have something I want you to help me with."

She started walking forward awkwardly, stopping in the middle of the room. A thin man stepped out slightly from the pack of robes and extended his hands in front of him, elbows bent, palms facing each other. Ramona mirrored his movements, placing her hands on either side of her head.

"Hey! Somebody stop-" Edward protested, but it was too late. With a swift movement, she thrust her hands together with tremendous force, crushing her own head to bits. The rest of us pulled together into a tight crowd, aghast at the grizzly display of power.

"Bella..." Edward whispered to his wife.

"Already on it," she replied in a hushed tone. I felt a strange sensation come over me, as Bella's mind put a protective barrier around mine.

Philippe grinned widely. "Now, that's more like it. For a moment there, I thought we were just going to talk." His men spread out in front of him, inching forward. There were nine in all – 4 of whom I recognized from our mission briefing – Felix, Elliot, Trent and Theodore. Behind the straight line of men, Philippe and Caius stood like Caesars watching an exhibition.

Hawkins and Emmett started calling out adversaries under their breath. Edward whispered something to Bella I didn't catch. I took Coraline's hand, and squeezed it tightly, while I scanned the minds of the nine for weaknesses. If Elliot was anywhere as strong as he was made out to be, we would need to reduce their numbers in a hurry.

"That Bella Cullen trick is a nice one," Philippe taunted, as the two groups hovered in an eerie standoff, like boxers waiting for the opening bell. "The thing is, though... it doesn't work if she's dead." The joking expression slid off his face like water, replaced by a stoic glare, as he addressed his men.

"Kill her."

- - - LONDON WILLOUGHBY - - -

I hit the ground, wincing as the flaming axe cut through vampire skin like a human's, making the most ear-piercing shriek imaginable. For a moment, I just laid there, numb. I couldn't move – all I could do was thank God that the axe wasn't cutting me. Two of the gray-robes slumped over in flames, and the axe just kept on spinning through the air past them. The rest of the cloaked ones all jumped on the tall guy, but the bald one looked like he was coming to his defense. I didn't know what on earth possessed those two to turn on their own team, and I didn't want to stay around to find out. As soon as I could talk my legs back into moving, they were carrying me away.

I ran parallel with my dad back toward the main battle scene, where things were still going badly, even with the gray guys killing each other. I scanned the field for faces, and from all I could see, there were less than half of us left, and at least 30 bad guys.

_Where do they keep coming from? _I wondered, as I moved behind my dad and got into the thick of it. He was a good fighter – I was just around to make sure he didn't get blindsided. Everywhere I looked, our people were getting kicked, or dismembered, or burned. Hope was definitely fading. That's when I was contacted by the one person who could open the line from his end.

"London – can you hear me?" Edgar asked. I tried to concentrate on protecting my dad's back, while I listened to him.

"Yeah. Where have you been?" I asked. "We're getting killed out here."

"I'm off to the far west," he said, looking around to give me an idea of his location. "Listen, there's a team bringing another set of guns to the soldiers from the underground complex. If we can cut them off, we can get the advantage back."

"Okay. What do we need to do?"

"I need you to find Jasper for me, so I can show him where to attack."

"Okay. Stand by..."

I searched around the area for Jasper's mind, and found him. He was actually close to Edgar, fighting alongside his family members. I let him know someone was coming to give him some important information, and then I reconnected with Edgar without any effort at all, and directed him there. I had to come back to my own senses a bit before I finished giving directions, because my dad was in a bit of trouble. I helped him get out of a choke hold and break a guy's arm before slipping away behind one of Benjamin's rock walls. Once it looked safe enough for me, I reconnected with Edgar.

I wish I hadn't.

I looked through Edgar's eyes just in time to see him walk up to Jasper.

"Are you Jasper?" he asked, as the rest of the Cullens spread out a little to cover for them.

"Yes," he replied. "What do you know? Make it qui-"

Before Jasper could finish his sentence, Edgar grabbed his head, snapping his neck like a twig and running away.

I literally screamed.

_What in the world is going on? What is he doing? What have I done? Oh, no... he was the traitor. The leak. He knew everything..._

I slumped to the ground next to the rock, too shocked for tears. _It's lost. We're lost._

I realized as I sat there that I was still connected to Edgar. I tried to break it off, but I couldn't. It was like a nightmare I couldn't wake up from. He ran almost all the way back to the buildings, before someone caught up to him. Everything in his vision spun like a top, as he had his head ripped from his body and tossed on the ground. His eyes were stuck open, and I could see his killer – Alice – grab him by the hair and toss him into an open flame that had recently been started.

I lost all sense of my surroundings as Edgar burned to death. It was like somehow, being connected to him was transferring the feelings to me. The most intense, searing pain surged through my head, blazing like the fire that was consuming my biological father. For a moment, I was faintly aware of the sound of my own screaming, but soon, even that faded out.

I couldn't see, hear, or think about anything but pain for I'm not sure how long, until Zane shook me out of it.

"London! Hey – snap out of it," he said in a hushed, urgent tone as he grabbed my shoulders and shook vigorously.

"What happened?" I asked, suddenly coming back to my senses.

"Listen – you've gotta get out of here," he said, ignoring my question. "It's all screwed up. Jasper's down, Philippe's men got restocked with guns... it's a lost cause."

"O-okay," I stammered. "How do we-"

"Listen to me carefully," he said, glancing over his shoulder. "I need you to contact as many survivors as you can, and tell them to run as soon as they see me and Maksim charge."

"Charge where?" I asked, trying to multi-task and look for survivors with my mind.

"We came here equipped with a small nuclear device for destroying the compound. Fred's going to sneak into the crowd and detonate it."

Out of nowhere, a tall, young man appeared next to Zane. He looked very focused – and scared.

"But – he'll be killed," I countered.

"That's his part to play," Zane said gravely.

"And what's yours?" I asked, suddenly realizing where this was headed. I may have been mad at him, but I still cared about Zane. A lot.

"The boys and I are going to charge the gray-cloaks, draw everyone's attention."

"And then you're running away in time, right?"

He said nothing, as his mouth formed a thin, straight line.

"Zane, you can't-"

"I have to," he cut me off. "London, look – I know I've been harsh today, and I'm sorry, alright? The truth is... I care about you. I'm not that good with words, but... well, I do. I just want you to live through this, and the only way that's going to happen is for you to do exactly as I say, understand?"

He cupped my face in his hands. I felt like I could cry, but my emotions were all shot to heck by that point. All I could do was stare.

"Talk to as many as possible. You've got thirty seconds. After that, I want you to run away from here as fast as you can. The kill radius is about a thousand meters. You've got to get at least that far. As soon as you see the flash, hit the dirt."

"I can't..."

"Thirty seconds. A thousand meters," he repeated.

"Zane, I love you."

He didn't reply, taking his sidekicks and moving to one of the forward rock walls. I didn't want to, but for the first time all day, I was going to do what he asked. I worked through as many people as I could find, telling them to run away – The Cullens (except for Jasper, of course), Peter, my mom and dad, Tanya, Benjamin, and that bald guy in the gray cloak. He was fighting on our side now, and he saved my life. I owed it to him.

The internal clock in my head sounded the alarm – my thirty seconds were up. I looked in Zane's direction, and caught his eyes for a short second.

"Remember me," he said, and then he ran into the fray.

I should have turned and run, but I had to see what happened to him. I peeked my head out from behind the wall, and watched as he and two other guys ran through the criss-crossing gunfire toward the three gray cloaked men still left.

And then I saw Harriet.

She was 30 yards in front of me, totally unconscious, but still in one piece. I bit my lip hard, trying to decide what to do. There wasn't much time for me to get a safe distance away, but if I didn't get Harriet out, she would be way inside the kill radius of the bomb. She was such a good family friend, and there was nobody else there looking out for her. I had to try and help.

I darted out from behind the rock and stooped down beside her, cradling her in my arms and running like crazy in the opposite direction. I could see Rosalie and Esme out of the corner of my eye, carrying Jasper away.

_Good. It worked_, I thought, as I pushed all the energy I had left into my legs. There was still a lot of ground to cover to get to safety, and I had no idea how long Fred was going to wait. I was so focused that I hardly noticed the pinching sting in my back and side. There was nothing else in the world but running. I went full speed for a few seconds before I saw the flash – so bright it completely blinded me. I hit the ground, just like Zane said, and then the blast concussion reached me. I got thrown through the air with a pulse of wind stronger than anything I had ever felt. Harriet and I got separated through the air, and I landed in a pile of gravelly rocks. I tried to get up and run further away, but I couldn't.

I could hardly move.

The sting in my back and side were burning like fire now. I reached back to touch the source of the pain, and my hand froze. I was wet and sticky. I opened my eyes, but everything was blurry and white. I couldn't make out much, but I did notice one disturbing thing – a small pool of crimson starting to collect underneath me.

I was bleeding. Bad.

I closed my eyes and focused on the pain. _Please... I don't want to die,_ I petitioned God. At the moment, He didn't seem to be listening. My core felt incredibly hot, and my limbs started going numb, as I went into some sort of shock-stupor. I was dying.

"Oh, my..." a startled female voice said after a minute or two. I was vaguely aware of a hand on my shoulder, turning me over so I was lying on my back.

"Oh no..." the voice said again, sounding desperate. I felt myself slipping further away, like I was falling asleep.

"Esme – Hurry! I need help," the voice shouted. "It's London Willoughby. I think she's bleeding out."

I don't know if the girl let go of me, or if I lost feeling in my shoulder altogether. I just know that I felt alone.

_Bleeding out_, I thought, as my mind turned hazy. _So this is what it feels like_...

- - - GRANT WILLOUGHBY - - -

The room burst into action like fireworks, with bodies racing in every direction, coming together with violent force. Hawkins and Edward engaged two of the unknowns. Emmett and Felix locked into a battle of muscle. Wesley and I focused on Trent and Theodore, who were the first to come in our direction. Theodore was a pushover – I was able to take him on by myself. With a quick pinch on his neck, I sent him to his knees, and right into the path of my foot. His neck snapped, as my kick crushed his facial bones and sent him flying across the room.

_One down. Eight to go._

Before I could help with Trent, another fighter was on me, grasped onto my left arm. He twisted sharply, trying to break it off, but I twisted with him, somersaulting and landing on my feet right next to Wesley. I took the split-second opportunity to give him the edge with Trent, numbing his arms, and went back to work defending myself against the man who still had a hold of my arm.

In my haste to assist Wesley, I had unknowingly put myself in a vulnerable position, and my attacker took advantage of it. He moved behind me in a snap, arms around my head. I lunged backward, gripping his wrists and trying with all my might to shake him off, but he was impossibly strong. With all the commotion going on around me, I couldn't get a lock on his nervous system, and his grip only tightened with my struggling. For a moment, I thought I'd lost it, but his arms loosened just in time. I threw them off of me, and turned to see his head in Coraline's hands.

_Whew. Three down..._

We exchanged glances, and resumed fighting side by side. A quick survey of the room suggested things were going in our favor. There were just four fighters remaining in front of Philippe. Of course, one of those four was Elliot.

Philippe's ace-in-the-hole had been lying back, allowing the other pawns to do the bulk of the scrimmaging with us, but as the battle began to turn in our favor, he stepped in to even things out. I heard a loud crack, and turned to see Wesley's arm snap in two, before Elliot tossed him casually to the side. Edward must have read some portion of his thoughts, because he anticipated his next move.

"Grant – help!" he shouted, just before Elliot darted toward him and Bella. The rest of our group closed in around them, and tried everything we could to slow Elliot down. Emmett dove at him, but missed completely. Hawkins landed a kick, but Elliot grabbed his leg and tossed him aside. For a moment, Edward was in a blurry scuffle with him, anticipating whatever moves he could, but even that couldn't last for long. By the time I was nearby to lend a hand, Elliot had gotten the best of Edward, sending him crashing directly into me. The force of the blow sent both of us flying across the room, crashing against the stone wall with such force that the whole ceiling cracked.

The impact knocked me senseless for a brief moment, which was the worst thing possible. When I regained consciousness, I was lying face-down on the floor. I looked up just in time to see two robed men charging in my direction. I responded with surprisingly quick reflexes, rolling out of the way, and catching one of them by the ankle. As soon as he was on the ground, I reached for him, taking hold of his arms and trying to pin him down for a quick bite to the throat. Right behind me, Edward was struggling with the second attacker.

I underestimated the strength of the man in my grasp, who quickly broke out of my hold, and landed a head-butt to my chest. As I went reeling backward, I caught a glimpse of the commotion on the other side of the room. Coraline had positioned herself in front of Bella in Edward's absence, while the rest of our fighters converged on Elliot. Aware of my momentary distraction, my attacker sprang forward, grabbing my neck in both hands. I dulled the impulses to his hands, weakening them a bit, but my concentration was split between my own struggle and that of my companions.

I watched out of the corner of my eye as Hawkins, Wesley and Emmett each tried their best to stop Elliot from reaching the girls. It was no use – he was far too strong. He swatted them off like flies, taking Coraline by the throat with one hand and ramming her into the ground. I gasped, as I heard the bones of my true love crumble, leaving her in a motionless heap on the floor. It brought a new sense of urgency to my fighting – this man had to be stopped. I pulled with all my might against my attacker's weakened arms, spreading them wide, and giving me a clear shot at his midsection. I let out a yell and lunged forward, taking a large bite out of his throat. He pushed me off, but the bite left him dazed and clumsy. With one quick movement, I ripped his head from his body, and charged toward Elliot. Edward threw down his foe, and raced with me stride for stride.

What happened next was a blur, as if the world had suddenly been thrown into slow motion. Elliot's eyes turned yellow, as he charged for Bella. Hawkins dove in his way, but Elliot caught him in mid-air and ripped him completely in half, cleaving him at the naval. Edward and I were only four steps away when he reached Bella, kicking her in the head and sending her flying back into the corridor where we entered. Edward growled furiously as soon as the contact was made, and dove for Elliot, but he stopped abruptly, like a bird hitting a window. I felt a strange sensation come over me, somewhat akin to the intense pressure at the bottom of the ocean, and in the next instant, I was hurled against the wall alongside Edward, pinned down with an indescribably potent force.

Elliot had full use of his power.

Edward and I were unable to do anything but watch, as Elliot fought off the rest of our coalition. Emmett had just given a knockout blow to Felix, and was the first to reach Elliot. He put all his might behind a punch, which Elliot absorbed easily, catching Emmett's fist with his hand. He ripped Emmett's arm completely off and tossed it aside, before Wesley regained his feet and dove into the fight. Elliot backhanded him, and apparently used his mind to pin him to the ground, while he returned his attention to Emmett. After a brief scuffle, Elliot grabbed hold of Emmett's hair, yanking his head down and breaking his neck in the process. All the while, I had been trying to exert any kind of influence on Elliot's mind, but every time I tried, I got an excruciating cramping pain in my head, as if he were somehow blocking me out. The others were on their own against him.

Once Emmett was incapacitated, Elliot moved to Wesley, who was still stuck on the ground.

"Always so elusive, Pemberton," Philippe said, as Elliot slowly raised Wesley to his feet, still using the forces of his mind.

"Not so much now, eh?"

Elliot's eyes flashed an even brighter yellow, and he punched his fist completely through Wesley's chest. I watched in horror, as a bright orange glow emanated from the hole the fist left, slowly creeping outward and devouring Wesley's flesh. He slumped to the ground silently, and our chances of survival fell with him. I glanced quickly around the room, looking for any spot of hope. Emmett, Hawkins and Coraline were still unconscious on the floor. Bella was nowhere to be seen – presumably still unconscious in the hallway. Wesley was burning to death before my eyes, and Edward was stuck to the wall next to me. There was no hope left to find.

Elliot walked slowly in my direction, as Philippe continued to gloat.

"So, at last, we come to the end," he said with a cocky smirk. "Edward, I do wish you would consider working for me. A man as talented as yourself would be most welcome in my service. And your lovely wife, as well – what a shame for her to die needlessly. Come to think of it, I could spare you both..."

"I would rather burn," Edward growled through clenched teeth.

"Damn. I was afraid you might say that," Philippe replied casually. "Take his friend first," he instructed his lone remaining assassin, speaking of me. "Make it slow and painful."

I felt the pressure around me shift, pushing me down the wall until my feet touched the ground. Elliot stared blankly at me with those horrid yellow eyes, beckoning me toward him with his mind. I fought against it with all my mental and physical strength, but his pull was too much for me alone. I needed help.

And I got it.

In a valiant move of desperation, Wesley climbed back to his feet, and despite a hole in his chest eight inches wide, he lunged toward Elliot. The yellow-eyed killer turned to defend himself, but not before Wesley had bitten a sizable chunk out of his neck. Instantly, the pressure around me lessened, and I rushed forward. Edward charged as well, and reading my mind as before, we executed a strike in perfect unison. I numbed Elliot's arms, weakening them enough for me to grab him and pin them to his chest. Edward rushed in right behind me, anticipating the direction Elliot would turn to try to avoid him, and finishing the work Wesley began on the villain's neck. With a resounding screech, Elliot's head was severed from its body, causing both to fall helplessly to the ground.

It was over. He was dead.

In that moment of victory, neither of us bothered to burn the body of our enemy. Neither of us even looked up to see Philippe and Caius run for their lives like cowards, fleeing the scene in defeat. It was not our enemies that held our attention – it was our friends. I rushed first to Coraline, scanning her quickly to be sure she could be healed. Even with the brutal blow Elliot had dealt her, everything in her anatomy was intact. She would make a full recovery.

Wesley, however, was on the brink of death.

I ran to his side, holding his head in my hand. The burning hole in his chest had now spread from his waist to his shoulders – his entire right side was a molten crater.

I reached into his body with my mind, trying frantically to get a handle on the process and stop it, but all I could do was slow it down, and only marginally, at that. Wesley's body shook slightly as the process neared his throat – I was almost out of time. He turned to me, looking straight at me through glazed-over eyes.

"Let me go, mate," he breathed, speaking barely over a whisper. "It's okay."

"No. I can try harder, Wes," I replied desperately. "I can stop this..."

"You're a good man, G," he choked out, pausing for a long moment to get enough energy for one last sentence. "Take care of Harriet for me. She needs..." He trailed off. It was the last thing he ever said.

Wesley Pemberton died in my arms that night, burning to dust like so many before him. It was a crushing blow, losing so dear a friend, but it wasn't in vain. Over the next hour, Edward and I pieced back together the remainder of our friends and burned the remains of our foes. The six of us walked out of the catacombs slowly – somberly, but victoriously. The coup had been thwarted, and despite the loss of a brave few, I made it through the day with my family intact.

All of them.

That was the ultimate victory for me.

That was my "mission accomplished."


	32. Chapter 31

_31. BIRTHDAY_

- - - GRANT WILLOUGHBY - - -

No matter how many sunsets you see, whether through human eyes or vampire, they never fail to amaze – each one unique in its artistry, a brilliant painting on the largest canvas imaginable. Such was the case for me, as I watched the sun retreat over the treetops from the comfort of the Cullen's back porch, radiating off of the house guests more beautifully than a stroll through the showroom at Tiffany's.

This was relaxation at its finest.

I couldn't help but smile, watching Renesmee run through the back yard with the wolves, her childlike innocence belying the true age that her stature seemed to contradict. It was only her second birthday, but already, she had the look of a schoolgirl – both in height and proportion, and in the soiled trim of her party dress, which was dirtied, no doubt, scuffling with the wolves she played with so freely. She was still very much a child at heart – a quality we could all use from time to time.

This was a different world than the one London grew up in, fraught with danger and secrecy. This was an immortal culture that not only accepted, but celebrated the growth of a young lady into the vampire-human hybrid she was to become. No fewer than 30 guests had been invited to the momentous occasion, and though some were forced to decline for various reasons, the vast majority of them attended. I reclined in my chair slightly as the sky shifted from yellows to bright orange, and allowed each familiar face to take me for a stroll through my memory.

In January 2007, when Philippe first began his systematic government takeover, there were approximately 210 known vampires in existence. By the end of the day on April 22 of that same year, the number had been reduced to 146. The one-day war was a catastrophic thinning of the vampire race, and it brought with it catastrophic change in the lives of many around the globe. Those who survived the great rebellion were forced to join together, often in tenuous partnerships, to forge a new foundation for the future of the immortal world.

The coalition that my friends and I put together was ultimately successful in thwarting Philippe's attempt at a regime takeover, destroying his army and killing his most powerful partner, Elliot. As for Philippe himself, we were satisfied to let the system take care of him. He never even escaped Volterra, betrayed by his own men, as they encountered him fleeing the keep after our battle. Upon the return of Aro and Marcus to the city, Philippe, along with Caius, stood trial, and both were condemned to death for high treason. No one from my family paid them the honor of attending the execution.

The death of one of their own left the Volturi in an imbalanced situation – they had been ruling as a triumvirate for over a thousand years. After deliberating at length, Aro and Marcus extended an invitation to Hermes to join them as the new third member in their ruling party. He accepted, and has served respectably ever since.

The war also took its toll on the rest of the positions in Volterra, most of which were filled in short order. Felix was killed in combat by Emmett Cullen during the fight in the keep. Several witnesses confirmed Alec's death on the battlefield in the Atacama desert, but no one ever knew for sure if Jane, his twin, shared his fate. Most assumed that she was consumed along with the rest of her compatriots in the nuclear blast that marked the end of the conflict. Of the ranking officers in the Volturi Guard, only Demetri survived the rebellion, escaping with Aro and Marcus when Philippe assumed power. The event affected him internally, though, and he resigned his position two months later, heading off into solitude to pursue a simpler way of life.

The post of Captain of the Guard was thereafter ascribed to Ronan Hawkins, who came out of the great conflict with a renewed sense of duty to preserve justice and order. He pieced together an all-new group of soldiers, among them, several of the survivors of the Atacama battle, and a few of his former associates.

Navi became his second-in-command, which worked out quite well – his calm, even-handed approach to law enforcement provided the perfect balance to Hawkins' tendency to use too much muscle. Persephone was one of the casualties of the Atacama fight, a personal loss that hit Hawkins especially hard. Within a year of her death, however, there were widely circulated rumors that he and Tanya – one of the members of the Denali coven – had something of a romance in the works. Whether or not there was any validity to the stories, everyone who knew him agreed – Hawkins was the happiest anyone had seen him in years.

Tanya and her coven escaped the coup entirely intact, as did the Cullen family, a fact that afforded both groups a great deal of influence in the new political structure in Volterra. Fearful of another rebellion, and seeking a more secure claim to power, the Volturi elected to share their responsibilities with a seven-member board of advisors, nominated by their peers to serve 50-year terms. Tanya was one of the founding members, as was Carlisle Cullen. Given the size of their covens, they were obvious choices to provide stability against revolt, which was the same reason the Volturi reached out to Coraline. She was honored at the suggestion, but for the time being, she (along with the rest of us) was content to be disconnected from Volterra altogether. We all had much more important things to attend to.

Of all the losses that the vampire world experienced during Philippe's war, none was as crushing as the death of my good friend, Wesley. A noble, selfless man, he was mourned by all. Coraline and I honored his dying wish, and brought Harriet into our coven. She took the death of her mate quite hard, especially at first, but in time (and with much love and support from her family), she found happiness again. The bulk of her time was spent assisting Lucy in a variety of charity works – the largest of which was an ongoing donation of clothing to the poor throughout the world, sponsored by Lucy May Clothing. Between Lucy's designs and Harvey's business savvy, Lucy May was one of the most successful small-scale clothiers in Europe, headquartered in our new home town, Manchester.

Adding to the growing popularity of the brand was their new headline fashion model, Rosalie Cullen, who had become one of our closest family friends. Though she could be abrasive at times, we were all more than happy to have her around. After all, we owed our daughter's life to her heroics.

London was shot twice as she fled the blast center of the bomb at the Atacama facility – once above her right hip, another just millimeters from her heart. After the explosion, she was lying alone in the desert for almost 15 minutes, slowly bleeding to death. Rosalie found her, and stayed with her for over an hour, enduring untold pain from the scent of the blood, as she held pressure on the wounds and allowed time for London's amazing body to repair itself. It was the second near-death experience of my daughter's young life, just another testament to her incredible resiliency.

London was a different person after that day – still happy and fun-loving, but with a new appreciation for the brevity of life and the need to live as much of it as possible. Zane's death left her heartbroken, but open to whatever path presented itself to her. To my great delight, the first such path was an opportunity to attend college at the university of Washington. This family visit to Renesmee's party was actually our collective sending-off trip for her, which was a bittersweet occasion in itself. Of course, the rest of her parents and I would miss having her nearby, but we were all thrilled that she had the chance to live a peaceful, 'normal' life with her peers.

As for myself, I found my place in the new world as well, doing what I loved – teaching. With Hermes' influence in Volterra, the climate was ripe for the creation of the first ever all-vampire university. I served as the academic dean of the online learning establishment, in addition to my responsibilities as the primary science and technology professor. Coraline served alongside me, teaching music and literature to the 40-plus students who lacked the necessary restraint to attend a traditional, human-filled university. It was the perfect job, along with the perfect house, in the perfect city. I had all that I could have asked for, but that wasn't where my happiness came from.

Happiness was the collection of friends gathered around me in the Cullens' back yard.

Happiness was the family that filled every day with a storyline, be it epic or ordinary.

Happiness was the woman sitting on the porch next to me. The one person who truly understood and believed in me. The one great love of my long life.

Coraline must have sensed I was thinking of her, as we watched the last hues of red and orange slowly fade from the horizon. She laced her fingers between mine, squeezing tightly, and resting her head on my shoulder.

"You know what?" I asked her softly, breathing the words she already knew were in my heart.

"What?"

"I love you. Really. So very much."

"Oh yeah?" she replied with an audible, playful smile. "Not as much as I love you."

I turned to meet her gaze, caught again in those lovely, glistening eyes.

"Impossible," I said quietly, letting the world blur into the periphery for a sweet moment. After all that we'd been through, all the joy and tears, the awkwardness and comfort, the failure and triumph, I knew there was no way anyone could love anyone as much as I loved her. It was the greatest, truest thing in existence, and it was mine forever.

I stroked her cheek with my fingers, cupping her jaw in my hand, and speaking with all the sincerity a love-struck man could possess.

"Impossible."


	33. Appendix 1

_APPENDIX 1_

_The full correspondence between Grant Willoughby and Coraline Gray_

Sep. 25, 1951

My Dearest Coraline,

I feel as if Iím living in a dream, writing you like this. I keep feeling like Iíll wake up and realize itís all a fantasy. Is it really possible that this is happening? Well, I suppose I should at least continue as if it were.

Iím so very sorry that youíve been imprisoned in Volterra. It is a terrible injustice ñ having such a genuinely good person locked away like a common criminal. I can assure you that whatever respect I might have held the Volturi in has been thoroughly crushed.

You deserve much better.

In a similar vein, I got the impression from your last letter that you were treated as something of a second-rate talent (at least, in comparison to Harriet), and I just wanted to reassure you ñ you are among the most brilliant, creative, talent-rich people I have ever known. I donít know what sort of blinders these Italian aristocrats are

wearing, but they have dramatically underestimated you. You are resplendent in every way. Please, never allow yourself for one second to feel inadequate or irrelevant.

I, too, share your surprise that Harriet and Wesley would knowingly choose to work for the Volturi, especially considering the offensive way in which theyíve dealt with you, but I trust your

judgment, and if you say itís a good thing, then I will try to think of it that way. I wonder, though, how long an arrangement like theirs will last. I know Wesley well enough to know that heís not the type to stay in any one place for a long time. I hope, though, for your sake, that he does decide to stay close by you. I cannot imagine the depths of loneliness you must fear if they were to leave. The mere thought of it breaks my heart. I have known deep loneliness, and at times, it seems worse than death. I would never wish it on my worst enemy, much less my best friend.

Alright, I suppose I should stop my rambling and get to some of your questions. I want to tell you about Harvey and Lucy, but in order to

understand that story, you need to know a few things about my life after Malmedy. As soon as I left Belgium, I went to Havana, Cuba, where I was taken in and hidden by some old friends of

Wesleyís. In time, I learned that they were

actually a coven of assassins, and through a gradual process of discovery on both ends, I came to be a part of their business. I must tell you, Coraline, I am very much ashamed of my

decision to join them. Looking back on it now, I can see that it was an immoral and irresponsible thing to do, and I hope that the fact that I

willingly chose that

lifestyle for a time will not permanently tarnish your view of me. I am a better man than that ñ killing people I donít even know for money ñ I hope you know that. I have since renounced the business and everything they stand for, and while I have retained a friendly relationship with the other vampires in the coven, I have no desire to spend any more time under their influence.

I said all that to explain why I was able to save my brotherís life. In November of 1947, I intercepted a termination request to kill Harvey and, if necessary, Lucy as well. Needless to say, I was shaken to my very core. I hurried to

England, and with the help of one of my very dear friends from Havana, I was able to get to Harvey and Lucy before the assassins did. Unfortunately, in the process of escaping the country, Harvey was shot twice in the chest, which nearly killed him on impact. Changing him was the only way to save his life, so I did what I had to do. So, yes, I bit him myself. It was, without a doubt, one of the scariest moments of my life. I honestly didnít know if I would be able to stop without killing him, but I did (with a little help from my friend). Once we got Harvey and Lucy back to Havana, it was obvious that we were going to have to change Lucy as well. She may not be comfortable with my sharing of the entire story of her conversion, but suffice it to say that I changed her as well.

Much to my surprise and delight, they have taken to the vampire nature quite nicely, as

evidenced by the fact that weíve been able to live in the same town for nearing three years now. I have taught them from the beginning to take blood from the deceased, and all in all, they have done a marvelous job at sticking to it. I am so glad to know that they will go through this life carrying far fewer lives on their conscience than you or I do.

Speaking of living in the same town, you had asked about my life here in Whitefish. After leaving Havana, my family and I decided to try and settle down in northwestern Montana, mostly because of its remote nature and the regional weather. It is cloudy here most days, which obviously suits our unique needs well.

Harvey and Lucy are terribly bored here, and as a result, they travel frequently ñ most often to Seattle or Portland, though they have also visited Vancouver from time to time. I suspect that we may need to try living in a larger city the next time we move. As for me, I have taken an apprenticeship with an undertaker in town by the name of Wally Monteverde. Heís such an authentically nice old man ñ I wish you could meet him. Heís now seventy-seven years old, and he has no other family around, so, Iíve become something of a long-lost son to him. He allows me to work with him in his business, and heís taught me how to do everything related to the occupation. This has been quite beneficial to me, as I now have three vampires to sustain on a diet of cold blood. Working with Wally has been the perfect source for that, as well as giving me something to do with my time.

Speaking of ëtime,í what do you do with yours? It sounded from your letter as if you didnít have much to do. That is just another testament to how ignorant and wasteful the Volturi are ñ you would be a tremendously valuable asset to any organization lucky enough to have you around. If they canít see that, then they are truly fools.

You asked me where I would prefer you send your letters, and I think, at least for the time being, that I would prefer you begin sending them to my forwarding address. If it were solely up to me, I would rather the letters come directly to my house, as I would most likely be able to retrieve them sooner. However, anything coming directly here from Italy makes Harvey quite uncomfortable, to the point where it has become a source of conflict between us. It would be much more

peaceful in my home if you could send the letters to the address Iíve listed on the return address portion of the envelope Iím sending you. Iíve arranged for all such letters to be forwarded from Billings directly to my house, so I can still enjoy checking my own mailbox for them, just as before. I would ask you not to fault Harvey for his precautionary nature. It is not you he is opposed to, heís just very protective of those he loves, namely

myself and Lucy, and he doesnít know you the way I do. Heís only looking out for me, like any good brother would do. I am certain that once he has a chance to spend time with you, he will be as confident in your trustworthiness as I am.

Please, donít feel any pressure from me to hurry with your response to this letter. While I would love to hear back from you soon, I completely understand the difficult situation youíre in, and I want you to feel comfortable enough to reply at your convenience. Iím just happy that youíre able to reply at all.

I think of you every day, and miss you dearly. The day I see you again will be the most magical happening the world has ever seen. I cannot wait for that day to come.

Missing you tremendously,

-Grant

January 3, 1952

Grant,

Good idea, adding the date to the messages. That way, we can see just how long it's taking for them to get back and forth. Of course, it is a little depressing when I think about how long it's been since your letter came here in the mail, but, oh well. At least we get to write at all.

Not to dive into serious stuff so early, but I wanted to thank you for your encouraging words about my talents. I do honestly feel like a second-rate vampire sometimes, but just knowing that you believe in me helps a lot. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. You are just the absolute best friend a girl could ask for.

Now, in return, I'm going to get onto you for the way you talked about yourself joining the assassin coven.

Grant, seriously... you're probably the most noble, good, high-character vampire in existence in the entire world. So you made a bad decision. Who cares? You realized it was 'wrong,' and you stopped. I don't think any less of you at all. In fact, I

really wish I could stick to my morals as well as you stick to yours. Living in Volterra has been bad for that sort of thing. I've never been anywhere where humans are thought less of than they are here. Part of my room and board here in the

catacombs is the allowance to feed off of the

tourists who are brought in here every week. They don't allow anyone to hunt in or near the city, so they have a small team of vampires who bring in people from all over the place to feed everyone who works underground.

Grant, it's been so horrible. I tried just getting my fill from whatever's left over after the live ones are killed, but there's just not enough there to live on.

Please don't hate me, okay? I don't have a choice. I have to eat sometime. I promise, though, as soon as I have the chance, I'm going to try and find other ways to feed.

Alright, enough talking about that. I think what you did for your brother and his wife was very brave. Like I said before, I don't think I would ever be able to actually stop in time to keep from killing someone. You can just add that to the list of things I admire about you.

You asked what I do in my spare time, and honestly... it's not much. I'm in charge of screening and delivering the incoming mail to the Volturi, and besides that, I don't really get to do anything of meaning. I've read so many books- it's a little ridiculous. Wesley brought my violin back from the house (yeah, I can't believe it wasn't burned up, or anything, but what can I say- miracles do happen). I've started playing it a lot over the last few months, and it just reminds me how much I love music. You remember that time when Harriet bought me that Haydn Concerto and asked me to sight-read it for the three of you? You know how I totally drug my feet, 'cause I wasn't good enough to play it right? Well, I can play it perfectly now. In fact, I'll bet I could sight-read it perfectly, if I had the chance. I wish you could listen. If only I could just package that into one of these paper

envelopes. I wish I could give you something more than just words. You have been so amazingly

encouraging and life-saving for me. I hope you understand how much I treasure our conversations. Ugh! And again, I'm out of time. Please write back. Tell me about anything- I want to know it all.

I miss you so much. Hope you're doing great!

Your encouraged friend,

-Coraline

Jan. 18, 1952

My Dearest Coraline,

Thank you again for taking the time out of your limited allotment to write to me. Even a single paragraph would fill my heart with delight. Your letters are the highlight of my entire month.

I cannot express in words how relieved I am to know that you still hold me in high regard, despite the assassin business. You are a remarkably supportive friend, and I treasure that greatly. I am not, however, the only vampire out there with a strong sense of conscience. One of my good friends from Havana, Jasper Whitlock,

married into a large, peaceful coven last year, and the entire family is committed to living murder-free. They actually survive on the blood of wild animals, bypassing humans altogether. I doubt this would be of any help to your situation in Volterra, but I thought it might offer you some hope ñ there are most certainly ways to escape the killing of humans. Please understand, though, that when I say things like this, it is in no way intended to be a condemnation.

Coraline, my dear, precious one, I could never hate you.

Never.

Under any circumstances.

The lives that you have been forced to take while in captivity in Volterra are not yours to atone for. The blood of those humans is on the hands of your wretched captors. Killing is not an option for you ñ it is a necessity. I understand that, and I am in no way judging you. In fact, I feel much sympathy for you. I wish very much that your situation could be made better ñ it is truly unfair.

In other news, Wally has grown to trust me to the point where he feels comfortable leaving town for a week, allowing me to fully run the business in his absence. Heís planning a trip to go visit his nephew, who lives in North Carolina. Apparently, heís never met the young man, but heís the only living relative Wally has, and the poor old man is

feeling the end of his life drawing near. I feel sorry for him ñ I canít understand why anyone so kind and agreeable would be so distanced from his family, but some things just defy logic and

understanding.

Iíd be lying if I said I wasnít a little bit

nervous having the responsibility for the business while heís gone. Itís not the embalming or

preparations that concern me ñ itís the daylight hours. If someone called to have a body picked up, and it happened to be a sunny day, I donít know what Iíd do. Iíll just have to hope that doesnít happen.

Are there any humans working in Volterra? I suppose there probably wouldnít be, given their lowly status there. Itís funny, you know ñ I find that most humans seem to have a subconscious

natural aversion to me. Well, not necessarily at first, but after talking with me for a bit, many of them seem to avoid me somewhat. That has never been the case with Wally, though. Either heís oblivious to the inherent danger a creature of my kind poses, or he chooses to ignore it. Either way, Iíve been fortunate to get to know him. I hope heís wrong about his health, and that heís able to live for many more years. I believe thatís the only thing thatís keeping me going right now ñ knowing that you and I have many, many more years to live. One day, be it tomorrow or twenty years from now, weíll be together again, and we can put the last seven years into our distant memory. I look forward to that day more than you could ever know.

I miss you dearly.

Be safe, and try to smile for me.

Awaiting your reply with eager anticipation,

-Grant

May 4, 1952

Grant,

I'm sorry this took so long to get back to you. I don't get to choose the days that I go outside- they're determined by Demetri's schedule. Last month, they were going to let me go, but Demetri got called away on some important business at the last minute. I'm so sorry! Hopefully that won't happen again.

I hope your spring/summer is going well. I'm sure it's beautiful there in Montana. I saw a map of the area- it looks like you're living right at the base of a big mountain range. I'm actually sitting outside next to some small rolling hills,

imagining what it would be like to see those big, beautiful mountains with you. I miss that

northwestern landscape- almost as much as I miss you.

Thanks for what you wrote- about not judging me. I love being around you, but sometimes, if I'm being totally honest, you're so good, that I feel like a totally bad person in comparison. You doing that stuff that you did with the assassins, that actually made it a little easier for me- you're not completely perfect after all. I'm trying to be a better

person, Grant, I really am. Thank you for being so understanding. Again, you're pretty much the best friend possible.

I'm curious to hear how your week running the mortuary went. I don't want to discount your concerns, but seriously, Grant, you're probably the most responsible person on the face of the planet. It's no surprise he felt comfortable leaving his

business in your hands. I'm sure you did just fine.

Okay, so you asked if there were any humans working in Volterra, and actually, the answer is 'yes.' There are a few different people who have served down there from time to time. They know all about vampires and the whole story, so it's sort of a dead-end career path. Either they exhibit enough

potential to be changed by the Volturi, or they become dinner. That's the official story, at least. I've been here almost six years now, and I've still yet to see any of them be changed. Sometimes, people can be so stupid. Why anyone would come here of their own free will- especially a human- is beyond me. I guess there's just something alluring about all the power and secrecy. Personally, I'd rather have a boring life in Montana. At least you have scenery there.

There's a guy here that I wish you could meet. His name is Moses, and he's the funniest vampire I think I've ever met. He came by the other day to meet with some people in the catacombs, and stopped by to chat. I think you and he would get along

really well. I wanted to talk about you to him (actually, to brag on you), but obviously I can't. At first, I wasn't even sure if I should talk to Wesley and Harriet about you, but I couldn't keep that up. They said to tell you 'hi,' and that they miss you, too. Who knows- maybe they could get a few days off and come visit you sometime. Of course, I would be INSANELY jealous, but I know you would all enjoy it.

You would think that having them around would make me less lonely, but being near them just makes me miss you more. I so wish that I had a time machine, and could go back to 1944. I would be fine just living that year over and over. Maybe one day... maybe we can get back to something like that. I would love that.

Alright, I have to go again. I was a few minutes late last time, and I got a mild warning. Don't want to push my luck.

I miss you! Hope you're doing great!

Write back soon,

-Coraline

Jan. 9, 1953

My Dearest Coraline,

Let me begin by profusely apologizing. I was absolutely beside myself when I saw the date on your last letter. Only after a thorough investigation did I learn that my mail-forwarding contact in New Hampshire is no longer employed by the postal service, and thus, your letter was lost in the mail-delivery world for quite some time.

I am so, so very sorry to keep you waiting. It makes me sick just thinking of it.

Harvey is beginning to come around with regards to your intentions, so if you donít mind, Iíd like you to go back to sending letters directly to my house in Whitefish. That way, there are fewer cogs in the machine that can break.

Alright, with that out of the way,

Itís good to hear from you at last. How was your Christmas? Did you get to spend it with Wes and Harriet? I certainly hope so ñ I remember how much fun the holidays are with the lot of you, especially Harriet and her hyperbolic gift-giving.

Christmas here was very nice, except for the fact that you couldnít be here. My ëvegetarianí friends, the Cullens, invited Harvey, Lucy and me to come celebrate Christmas with them this year, which was a kind gesture that I genuinely wanted to accept, but I stayed in Montana instead. As much as I wanted to see Jasper again and visit with friends, I couldnít leave Wally all alone for Christmas. Especially since I fear this may be his last one.

I was saddened to hear that Wallyís trip to see his nephew last year didnít fare so well.

Apparently, this nephew has become part of a very closed-minded religious group, one that views all outsiders- even oneís own family- as ìheathen.î So, essentially, Wally traveled 1,800 miles to learn that he was eternally damned, and unwelcome in his own family, unless he ìrepentedî and adhered to a collection of strict guidelines. Honestly, I was profoundly upset when I heard about it. Wally is a deeply religious man in his own right ñ he never opens his business on Sundays, and he attends his home church here with the utmost faithfulness. If there was anyone whose soul I would be confident in to find heaven, it would be his.

As a result of his rejection at the hands of his nephew, Wally was quite dejected during the Christmas season, so Harvey, Lucy and I invited him over to our house on Christmas Eve. It was a little awkward ñ weíve never had a human in the house before ñ but all in all, it was a

wonderful time for all, especially Wally. As I said earlier, I suspect that he may not live to see another Christmas ñ his health leaves much to be desired. I didnít want him to spend his last one alone.

On another note, I have successfully proven that Iím capable of managing a mortuary all on my own. The week of running the business by myself was somewhat nerve-wrecking, but much to my delight, everything ran smoothly. I even brought Harvey and Lucy into the workshop to show them how I do things. Iím not sure if I explained to you my process, but it has undergone a steady

evolution since you last tried cold blood. With my access to proper equipment (and a reasonable amount of time with the cadavers), I no longer have the need to drink blood directly from bodies at all. As soon as a corpse comes in, I drain the blood from it, bottle it up, and promptly refrigerate it. When I leave for the end of my shift (which is usually overnight), I bring the refrigerated liquids home, where we all drink it as one might drink soda from a bottle. Itís quite civilized, you really must try it sometime.

Your friend Moses sounds like a nice fellow, perhaps I could meet him sometime. And regarding the idea of Wesley and Harriet coming to visit, I would absolutely love it. The next time you see them, tell them that they are most welcome to come visit any time they want to. Who knows? Maybe they could even transfer a hug for us.

Before I finish this letter, I want to address the matter of my ìgood nature,î as it relates to your own goodness. Coraline, you know well that I have many faults, as many as the next person. I never have, and never will look down upon you. These religious folks like Wallyís nephew, theyíve got it all wrong. Theyíve forgotten that everyone is flawed in their own way. To me, it is not a matter of whether or not someone has made mistakes, but how they respond to those mistakes that

determines their character. You, my dear, have a heart of gold. I am fully convinced of that much. As to the nature of a soul, I still have no clue on the matter. I have a suspicion, though, that if God really is out there somewhere, then He must have grace enough to accept flawed people,

otherwise He would have no one at all.

You are a good person, Coraline. Flawed? Yes, but good nonetheless.

I hope that this letter finds you well, and that your holiday season was filled with joy and

contentment. I miss you dearly, and look forward to hearing again from you, whenever that might be.

Yours truly, for ever and always,

-Grant

April 15, 1953

Grant,

I'm sorry that these messages are getting strung so far apart. I actually got to go out about a week before you wrote your last letter (of course!), and I was wondering what was taking so long for you to write back. I'm glad you're okay- you had me worried, there.

That's sad, the way your friend Wally has been treated by his nephew. I know I've said it before, but I'll say it again. Religion is a crutch. And, apparently, a club to beat people with. I'm not at all surprised at how 'exclusive' this nephew

was- that's just how religious people are (at least, in my experience).

So, you did just fine, running the business on your own, huh? See, I told you it would be fine. Have you ever thought about opening your own

business the next time you move? I could see that working out really well for you, especially now that you have such an elaborate system worked out. I wish I could try it that way sometime- it does sound a lot more 'civilized' than sneaking in and biting corpses.

I saw Edgar today, for the first time in a long time. I didn't really get the chance to talk, since he was in a pretty big hurry, but it was nice to know that he's okay. I can't remember if I

already told you about him- he's the one who was helping to keep you hidden from Philippe and the

assassins. After Zane and Wesley came back,

Edgar disappeared, and I was afraid for a while that he had been caught, but apparently,

everything's okay.

Wesley and Harriet said they'd love to come visit you, but right now, all their travel is being closely monitored, so they'll have to wait until things ease up a bit. Actually, I begged them to wait. Sorry, but anything that puts you at risk sounds like a bad idea to me. Hopefully, things will change soon enough. I know I, for one, am getting really tired of tip-toeing around all of the time. Ugh! Why does life have to get so complicated?

Okay, well, I guess I should wrap this up now. I'm almost out of time. I miss you! All of the time, sometimes at random, sometimes when something reminds me of you. I hope you're doing great, and that you can write back soon.

Your lonely-but-making-it friend,

-Coraline

August 29, 1953

Grant,

Oh my God, I can't believe it! The mailbox is totally gone! Oh, Grant, I hope you haven't been sending a lot of letters, or anything. Okay, for right now, I'll give you another address nearby where you can send stuff. There's a house that's for sale, and I'm gonna get Harriet to buy it. That way, I don't have to worry about someone tearing down the whole stupid lot to build a farm.

I'm so sorry! Please write back soon, so I know everything's okay.

-Coraline

Sep. 13, 1953

My Dearest Coraline,

I was beginning to wonder why my letter kept coming back to me, and now I know. Please, donít trouble yourself worrying about it. Whatís done is done.

I have not written in a while, but thatís just as well, seeing as how nothing much has

happened here in a while. Itís funny ñ after

living through such drama-heavy years recently, I find the day-to-day routine here to be tremendously boring. Of course, part of that may be attributable to the fact that I donít really want to be here.

I want to be with you. If only...

In other news, I was thinking - your

birthday will be coming up shortly. I wish I could do something special for you. Do you remember your birthday the year we lived in Belgium? That was fun, flying you around like that. I wish we could do it again sometime. Alas, I have no way to get to you or do anything to celebrate your entrance into the world. Iíll just have to save up a few good ideas to use whenever youíre released from Volterra. In the mean time, tell Wesley and Harriet I said to take good care of you and make you feel special on your birthday. You are so very special, Coraline. Not just to me, but to everyone who has had the opportunity to really get to know you. If I could send one message to you on your birthday it would be just that. Youíre a wonderfully unique and beautiful person, and Iím thrilled to know you. I hope your birthday is a wonderful one, filled with happiness and contentment. You deserve nothing less.

Wishing you all the best,

-Grant

November 2, 1953

Grant,

I actually got to respond to one of your letters in less than three months! Yay!

My birthday was nice- I wish you could have been here! I wasn't allowed to leave the catacombs, so Wesley and Harriet brought the party to me. They decorated my room, bought me a new outfit to wear, and gave me all kinds of stuff that I have absolutely no use for (but I'm still grateful for it).

The nicest thing about my birthday was

actually something I didn't get- time with Philippe. Up until this year, Philippe has come over to pay a special visit every time my birthday came around. It was always sort-of nice, but mostly awkward.

I never really cared about all his over-the-top gifts, or anything, especially when I knew they were just given in order to further his agenda of "owning" me. This year, all I got was a card.

Apparently, everyone's favorite little talent-superstar, Elliot Pinter, is finally old enough for his conversion, and Philippe felt he had to devote all his time and attention to his new toy. It's just as

well- they deserve each other, as far as I'm

concerned.

Okay, enough about Philippe. You probably hate him enough already, I don't need to give you any more reasons.

Thanks for changing the mailing address.

Harriet was able to buy the house, which she decided to give to me for my birthday, so I'm now the proud owner of my very own three-bedroom farmhouse in Tuscany. I've never actually been inside it, but I don't mind. The only part of the house that matters is the little metal box at the end of the driveway.

I wish I could come visit you! I'd love to see your house, and where you work, and meet Wally, and all that. Maybe one day I can...

Well, again, my time is up. Write back when you can!

I still miss you! Haven't said that in this letter yet.

-Coraline

November 20, 1953

Grant,

I really feel like crying right now as I'm

writing this. This might be the last letter you get from me for a long time, and I'm so mad, and frustrated, and upset about it, but there's nothing I can do to change things. There's nothing I can do.

Apparently, there's some major trouble going on with a coven of vampires in India, and because of that, Volterra has put all their fighting men on high alert, and they're getting ready to send a small army down there to completely wipe out every vampire in the country. Demetri is the front-man for the whole operation, which will take who knows how long, and until he comes back, I won't be

allowed to leave the premises. I really shouldn't even be allowed to get out to write this letter to you, but I begged Demetri to give me just a little more time before he left.

Grant, I'm so upset, I don't know what to do. It could be six, eight, even twelve months before I can write to you again, and I've grown so accustomed to hearing from you, I don't even know how I'll make it. I miss you so much! I really wish you could be here right now, just for comfort, if nothing else.

I'm worried about Wesley, too. He got recruited to go with Demetri and his team, and I know there are some dangerous vampires down there, otherwise, they wouldn't be making such a big deal of it here. It's stupid- he shouldn't even be there. I swear, if anything happens to him... I can't think about it.

It will be so long before I can check the

mailbox again that I'm worried something may go wrong, and I may miss your letters altogether. This is total crap. I hate it.

Please don't stop writing, though. I need to hear from you, even if it's six months from now. I need to know that you're okay and happy.

I miss you so much, Grant. I'm sorry about all this. Believe me, it's killing me already.

Write back when you can. Please.

I miss you.

-Coraline

December 5, 1953

My Dearest Coraline,

I donít know what to say, other than Iím sorry. Iím sorry that your only privilege has been suspended, Iím sorry that youíve been feeling all this stress and worry, and Iím sorry that I canít be there for you. My heart breaks for you, Coraline. I would give anything to be able to come hold you. I promise you, if thereís a way, Iíll find it.

I donít know when or if this letter will reach you, but for now, Iíll assume that youíll be reading this sometime in the summer.

In that case,

I hope youíre able to enjoy the clear night sky in Tuscany as youíre reading this. Iíve made it a point to learn as much about your part of the world as I possibly can, and I hear itís quite lovely there in the summer time. Do me a favor ñ take a little time on your way back, stop off at one of the rolling hills around you, and pick

yourself a little bouquet of wildflowers. Iíd do it myself, but ñ well, you know. Donít forget to give them plenty of water, too. Wouldnít want them wilting prematurely.

Things have been relatively quiet around here since I last wrote you, but a few fun things are on the horizon. Since we felt the need to decline the Cullensí offer to visit for Christmas last year, we all decided we should try and reschedule for this December. Harvey, Lucy and I are planning on taking a two-week trip out to visit them over the holiday season. Iím very much looking forward to it. For one thing, it will be nice to get a change of scenery. Besides that, though, Iím looking

forward to spending time with them all. Iíve found the entire Cullen family to be kind, funny, and quite genuine. I believe us to be something of kindred spirits. Oh, and weíll no doubt be playing a few more games of baseball. American sports can be strange, but I must admit, itís a lot of fun to play, especially with a group of characters like the Cullens.

Oh, and one more thing ñ Iíve told Wally all about you, and he has decided that you are ìa keeper.î Taking into account his upbringing as a fishermanís son in Boston, I assume that to be a ìfishî metaphor. Not that I would normally

compare you to a seafaring creature, but if you were a fish, you would apparently be one fit for consumption. Which, now, as I write it, sounds more violent than romantic... Well, itís a compliment nonetheless.

On a serious note, Coraline, I want you to know that while I will miss your letters intensely over the next few months, I will do my best to continue living my life with as much joy as possible. Please, donít spend another ounce of worry on me. Give Harriet a hug for me, and remind her that Wesley is one of the most seasoned, battle-hardened vampires in existence. Iím sure heíll be just fine.

I want you to be just fine, Coraline. Please, take care of yourself. Donít try anything rash. Weíll write again soon, itís only a matter of time.

I miss you tremendously. More than the midnight flowers miss the sun. Iíll talk to you again soon.

-Grant

May. 20, 1954

My Dearest Coraline,

Itís now been six months since your last letter, and I was simply writing to check in and see how things are going over there. Which... now, as Iím writing this, sounds a little absurd ñ Itís not as if youíd be able to tell me how things are going. Oh, well. At least let me say that you are missed, and that I look forward to hearing from you again, whenever that may be, like a child on Christmas Eve. Iíve been trying to keep tabs on the events in India, but so far, Iíve found the Volturi to be quite secretive about the operation. As I recall, there was an assassin coven based out of India. I wonder if they have anything to do with the conflict there...

At any rate, I will be most delighted when it is over and things can go back to normal. Until then, I wish you all the best things in life, all the happiness, peace and love one could possibly

contain.

With great anticipation,

-Grant

Oct. 5, 1954

My Dearest Coraline,

As time continues to pass by, I become

gradually concerned that this may be a more

permanent problem than either of us initially

anticipated. I do hope that everything is alright over there, that youíre safe. Iíd be lying if I said I didnít worry about you from time to time. I am, however, making the attempt to be happy, just like you asked.

Things with Wally have changed somewhat lately, mostly because of his health. More specifically, his vision. He was in an automobile accident two months ago, and after the official investigation by the law enforcement officers here, Wally was deemed unfit to drive a vehicle. Fortunately, he was not seriously injured, but he had his driverís license revoked, and his car was damaged beyond repair. As a result, the three of us (Harvey, Lucy and I) have been chauffeuring him around town as he has need. His house is only three blocks from the mortuary, and even though I offered to give him a ride, he insists on walking to work. For most other errands, though, he needs our assistance (which is mostly my assistance).

I may have mentioned before that Wally is a very religious man. He has been attending the same church for over twenty years, twice a week, every week. Lucy has taken it upon herself to be the one to take him to these services, and

somehow, sheís grown to enjoy them. She is now an official member of the congregation, which, in and of itself, is not a bad thing, Iím just a little uneasy concerning her level of involvement with the church. And, in addition, I suppose Iím still a little leery of churches in general, especially after the icy reception Wally received from his nephew. Lucy has asked on several occasions that Harvey and I accompany her to Sunday morning service, but we already have very important business to attend to on Sunday mornings.

It may sound a little odd to you... well, a lot odd to you, but I have recently taken a keen interest in the sport of American Football. Yes, I imagine youíre probably laughing at me right now. For as much a non-sport fellow as Iíve been for most of my life, I find myself delightfully interested in this new game. It was actually Harveyís doing ñ heís the one who began watching the sport in the first place. Before long, though, I was hooked.

I love the balance of intellect, strategy and preparation with sheer athleticism and physicality. It is, in many ways, a sport that mimics the patterns of war, which intrigues me. And, of course, itís always fun to root for your favorite team. There is no local team in Montana, but with my ability to influence mechanics, Iíve been able to pick up local broadcasts from teams in New York City, Los Angeles, and Chicago. One day, when you finally get to come visit, weíll have to watch a game together.

Oh, Coraline, I do wish you could come here, or that I could go there. For now, I suppose letters are all we have. I think of you every single day, and miss you every moment.

Looking forward to hearing from you soon,

-Grant

p.s. Lucy said to tell you that she is ìpraying for you.î

May 4, 1955

My Dearest Coraline,

I keep turning calendar pages, hoping every time that this will be the month I hear from you again. Itís hard, having some portion of you for a while, and then going back to nothing. In many ways, I miss you more now than before I received that first letter. I hope you can write back soon.

Iím writing this because I need someone to talk to, and even if you canít write back, maybe you can still listen. Over the past two weeks, Iíve become increasingly concerned for Wallyís health. I started noticing irregularities in his heartbeat, and when he wasnít paying attention, I had a look at the structures of his heart to see if I could find the problem. Well, there is a problem. Heís got a pretty sizable blockage in two of the arteries near his heart, and Iím afraid if nothing is done about them, they may become life-threatening. I tried moving them with my mind, but I couldnít do much, and even if I could have, thereís a chance the clot would have just moved somewhere else and caused a stroke. Iíve mentioned to him repeatedly that he doesnít seem well, and that he should see a physician, but Wally is a stubborn man, and he insists that he is ìfit as a fiddle,î which, in American vernacular, is apparently ìquite well.î

Harvey thinks Iím overreacting. Lucy says if itís his ìtimeî to go, then I should just let nature take its course. I donít know what to do. I donít just want to stand idly by and watch him die ñ Iíve come to care for him over the last few years. I understand that at some point, all humans must die, but... I suppose Iíve never been faced with such a slow progression as this.

I wish you were here. I could use your advice.

I miss you.

-Grant

June 14, 1955

My Dearest Coraline,

I am trying my best to be happy, like you asked me to be, but on days like this, itís nearly impossible. We buried Wally today. It was a small funeral ñ twenty or so people from his church, Harvey, Lucy, and me. After I wrote my previous letter to you, I came to the decision that I would have to let nature have its way with Wally. After all, there really wasnít much that could have been done anyway. On the positive side, he lived his life to the fullest, all the way to the end. I came into the office one evening to find him slumped over on the floor. I know his death was not pain-free, but at least it was swift and sudden.

I hate death. I hate saying goodbye. It just doesnít seem right, someone like Wally leaving the world, while there are still so many others in it that live like wretches. Oh, well. It is the nature of life.

I miss you. I donít know if youíll ever be able to read this, but if you do, just know that I have missed you dearly these last nine years. I canít forget you, and the void in my life never seems to lessen. For what itís worth, it was the best year of my life ñ that year we spent together. I wish every day that I could go back there.

Well, I suppose thatís enough talk, feeling sorry for myself. If you ever get the chance to write back, my address has not changed. I still check the mailbox every single day.

Missing you more than ever,

-Grant

September 14, 1956

Grant,

Hi! Wow, I really can't believe I'm actually writing this! It has been SO LONG since I've written you. Sorry, it was totally out of my hands. I honestly have not been above ground at all for the last... well, almost 3 years now. Unbelievable!

First, let me say that I'm so sorry to keep you hanging like that. It's been killing me, not being able to communicate with you, but, like I said, I haven't had the chance at all. As you may have guessed, the problem in India escalated into a full-blown war, and it was an ugly one, at that. There were three different covens there that were planning some sort of coup, so the Volturi decided it wasn't enough to just bring things under control- they went for total extermination. It was a long, hard process. We actually had a real scare about nine months into the war- a couple of them made it past the perimeter guard, all the way to the catacomb entrance. Needless to say, after that, everything underground was totally shut off. Harriet and I were both in there with no chance of leaving until the Volturi could be sure it was "safe." Basically, it was a big mess, but it's over now. They hunted down every last vampire in the whole area and killed them all.

Okay, so I have to tell you- the best part about the war being over is that I've been promoted. Well, sort-of. Philippe had to put a stop on most of his recruiting (for talent development) while the fighting was going on, so there's a huge back-log of people to check up on. Donovan, the guy that went along with Harriet and the others on their trips, was killed in India, and her mate, Pearl, has gone totally AWOL. It could be a while before she's got it together enough to get back to work evaluating people for Philippe, so in the mean time... apparently I'm the best replacement they've got.

I'm going to start going on trips with Harriet and Wesley (and a few other people, most of the time), meeting potential humans (and vampires) to try and screen them for potential.

Isn't that great? I have a job! I get to go places!

FINALLY!

Obviously, I'm a little excited about things here, but I want to know more about what's going on with you. First of all, I'm really sad to hear about Wally. I know he meant a lot to you, and I know it must have been really hard watching him die like that. You never wrote anything else after that, though. Are you still in Whitefish? Did you have to find another way to harvest blood? Do you still like watching football? I need to know these things.

Oh, Grant, I've missed talking to you so much. We can absolutely, positively NEVER go this long without writing again.

Okay, so, there's one other thing that I want to ask you, but I'm a little nervous about it. It's just an idea, and if you think it's stupid, or dangerous, or anything like that, I totally understand. I don't want you to feel like you have to go along with it, but...

I'm going to be in New York for a couple days in October, and...

I was wondering if you wanted to meet me there. It'll just be me, Harriet, and Wesley there. We're meeting a couple people over the weekend, and then we'll be traveling back to Volterra to give a report. It would be totally safe, as far as I can tell, but I understand if it sounds too risky to you. I don't want you to be in any danger at all. At the same time, though, it would be so nice to see you again.

I would totally love to have more time to really catch up. I'm not sure if I'll have time to check my mail again before I fly to New York, so just in case I don't, and you decide you want to meet up with me, I'll be staying at the Waldorf-Astoria hotel in Manhattan from Friday, October 5th through Sunday, October 7th.

Again, if you don't- or can't- come, that's okay.

I would really love to see you, though.

I miss you, Grant. Write back soon, okay?

-Coraline


End file.
